


Kicking The Bucket List

by jellydonut16



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, scotmano, spamano - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:29:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3320720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellydonut16/pseuds/jellydonut16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Fed up with life and never being good enough, Lovino makes a Kicking the Bucket List, in which he'll kill himself when it's done. But can a certain Spaniard sweep him off his feet before a noose does? eventual!Spamano with initial!Scotmano (ScotlandxRomano)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Kicking the Bucket List**

**one**

**" _I'm a candle you'd extinguish when you found the sun._ "**

**— z.n, ten word story**

**X**

Lovino Vargas never really saw himself as the type of person to be depressed. And it's not that he cut himself or that he wanted to die or anything… It's just that he didn't see any reason in living anymore.

Other people, they usually have this sort of reason for their existence. A beacon of light in the dark that consumed their beings, a thread of hope. No matter all the bullshit life threw in their faces, still, they pushed forward. They found the strength to carry on. And, with that, they make it through the day.

In all honesty, Lovino wasn't one of them, no.

He calls it like he sees it, and more often than not, his view on life is… cold. Bleak.

But, in his opinion, very, very real. It wasn't his fault that he didn't shy away from the truth.

Yet somehow, he felt like he was being ungrateful in a way by feeling like this. By most people's standards, he had nothing to complain about. He just graduated with honours he worked his ass off for to get, he's going to his first choice college, and his grandfather had gotten him and his brother a penthouse a five minutes' walk away from campus.

Like, what _else_ could he possibly want?

All is good… _Life_ is good. Right?

Wrong.

For the Italian, he felt as if he were okay, yet somehow _not_ okay. He couldn't even begin to describe what the actual fuck he was feeling, and truth be told, all this quasi-okayishness was beginning to fuck with his head.

It was that point of life where he was wondering, _'Why the fuck do I even exist?'_

**X**

…Alright.

So _perhaps_ there was a reason for his existence. It was more like a purpose he was born to do, as opposed to some self-actualised discovery of one's source of joy.

Feliciano is Lovino's younger brother by a whopping twenty minutes.

Yes, they're twins.

And don't even fucking say that those twenty minutes couldn't _possibly_ make a fucking difference, because it did, it does, and it always will.

So shut up, dammit.

He liked to think of them as polar opposites. Lovino was, admittedly, an asshole with a vengeance and an obsession with anything and _everything_ by Mario Puzo (Author of _The Godfather_? _The Last Don_? _Anyone_?! _Dio mio_ , this guy's a _god_.) and… tomatoes.

_..Shut up. I know what you're thinking, dickhead, and you better keep your damn thoughts to yourself before I—_ Dio mio _, I don't even know— throttle you, dammit!_

Ahem.

…Whereas Feliciano was the happy-go-lucky idiot who was, like, a fucking art prodigy obsessed with, uh, pasta. Definitely not starving artist material, no.

Don't even try to judge Feliciano for obsessing about pasta, either. Italian food is fucking _orgasmic_. It automatically PWNs all those other cuisines, so your argument is invalid.

_A-Anyway, getting kinda off topic here, dammit…_ Let it just be said that Feliciano was the _better_ twin. The nicer, better-looking twin, who had his future laid out for him as a great artist. Hell, he even graduated as fucking _valedictorian_. How the fuck that happened, Lovino would never know.

What he _does_ know is that his _fratello's_ valedictory speech was in Italian. It was a 10-minute long speech about fucking _pasta_. Lovino remembers he was just sitting there, trying not to shit himself laughing because _all_ of the faculty members were fucking moved to tears with Feliciano's speech.

No, it couldn't be about how all of them had grown up and were now, hell, 'taking flight' to different colleges and universities. About all of the bullshit the seniors went through in order to complete all of their requirements, and how the memories they've shared together would always remain with him 'til he took his last breath. No, it had to be about _pasta_.

_Fucking pasta._

"Ve~ Pasta has always played an important role in my life. Whenever I felt like being lazy— which is often, tee-hee— my older brother Lovino would always give me the strength to carry on by threatening to stop cooking me pasta~! Even though I can cook my own pasta myself anyway, his pasta tastes out of this world! It tastes amazing, and I hope you all could try it sometime, but he complains enough while making pasta for me, so I don't think that'd be a good idea~ Thank you, Lovi! For the pasta! I love you! Please continue cooking pasta for me in college! _Please_!"

…At least he got a shout-out during that speech. E-Even though there was that fucking 'complaining' bit, it was the truth. No one else understood the speech anyway.

And after all he's done for Feliciano, he was kind of… happy to actually be acknowledged by his _fratellino_ somehow. He was definitely not moved to tears for that bit, _hell_ no— he was just— just t-tearing up from laughing so hard, d-dammit…

Anyways, being Feliciano's 'pasta-maker' was just _one_ of the many, _many_ roles Lovino had to take.

He was Feliciano's bodyguard for one.

Ever since he and Feliciano were in kindergarten, these rotten little brats would always try picking on the latter by bullying him.

AKA by stealing his crayons.

Bitch, nobody steals Feliciano Vargas' crayons without _Paying The Ultimate Price _.__

__If Feli's crayons were taken by some dipshit, then Lovino would come in to the rescue. He would pummel his fists into those ugly— _Dio mio_ , so fucking ugly— fat faces and steal those crayons right back._ _

__E-Even _if_ doing so landed Lovino in the time-out corner._ _

__Feliciano was fragile. He was not._ _

__He could take it, so he did. Even as a kid, he felt like he d-deserved it anyway… he was a pretty rude little shit back then. And he often found himself that maybe, this was the price he had to pay._ _

__For not being good enough._ _

__Over time, it got worse. The beatings became more frequent, and he was ganged up on a lot. He always told Feliciano not to tell anyone though— _especially_ not _Nonno_ — because he didn't want to hear his own grandfather scolding him about how he should be more… _sweet_ , like Feliciano. How he probably had it coming to him with how rude he was._ _

__Even as a child, Lovino didn't want to be reminded how he was never good enough._ _

__Like, he was fully aware ofit already. Any other reminder of the fact would be like rubbing his insecurities and shortcomings right in his face._ _

__And he had too many of those to count._ _

__One day, though, in middle school, one of the beatings he got was so bad, it landed him in the hospital because he had a swollen jaw, a busted lip, a black eye and a few broken ribs._ _

__The grown-ups didn't know it was the work of a bunch of beady-eyed twelve year-olds who got their kicks out of making others feel as shitty as they actually were. Lovino said he fell off a tree he was climbing, and no one questioned him twice for it. He had a knack for being clumsy anyway._ _

__Plus, he had a hunch they wouldn't understand, let alone try to. All they'd do is cross their arms over their chests, look at him with disappointment, and blame it on him not being good enough and how he brought it all on himself._ _

__Once the brief wave of concern had washed away, _Nonno_ was pissed at him for getting himself _this_ beat up by falling off a fucking _tree_._ _

__Then Feliciano told _Nonno_ the truth. _Feli, you little snitch,_ Lovino remembered himself thinking as _Nonno_ abruptly stormed out of the hospital room, pulling the younger twin with him._ _

__He assumed that it was safe to say that Nonno rained hellfire upon the school the next morning. He wasn't there to see the glorious moment for himself, but his tormentors had gotten suspended._ _

__It was one of the best days of his life._ _

__Albeit the absence of the bullies in school, Nonno immediately moved them out of that hellhole and to another one. A private academy in their hometown of Verona back in Italy.__

 _ _ **X**__

 _ _Years passed. Lovino not only had the role of being Feliciano's bodyguard, he had gotten partial responsibility of _Nonno's_ role of caretaker, too._ _

__Ever since they moved to Verona, Nonno had become increasingly busy, often going on business trips that left an awkwardly maturing 13-year old Lovino in charge of the house _and_ his brother._ _

__He was the eldest, after all._ _

__And, voluntarily or not, he had assumed the role of being the p-protector of Feliciano's… goddammit— _virginity_._ _

__See, when you go through, uh, puberty, you start to feel things you think is the work of _amore_ , but it isn't _amore_ , it's an infatuation. And once that thing shatters the fuck out of your pre-pubescent heart, you tend to feel like it's the end of the world. Only worse._ _

__Boo-hoo._ _

__But as long as _Lovino_ was around, no one would ever dare lay a hand on his _fratello's_ heart, and thus, automatically, his _fratello's_ virginity. I-It's not that he cared or anything, he just didn't want Feliciano to deal with all the heartache and come crying to him for _Dio_ knows how long._ _

__Yet still, that didn't prevent Feliciano from making friends, of course._ _

__Slowly, ever so slowly, Feliciano began to… branch out. He started making friends— a _lot_ of them, actually._ _

__He began to go to parties, hang out with his friends after class, and he began to do his own thing._ _

__He became more independent._ _

__It was around that time that struck this hidden fear inside of Lovino, that Feliciano wouldn't need him anymore. And another fear, much, much worse…_ _

__The fear of being alone.__

 _ _ **X**__

 _ _When it was time for them to go to high school, _Nonno_ had taken them out of their current school and moved them back to the place where they grew up; America. It was out-of-the-blue; unexpected._ _

__Lovino didn't know if it was a good change._ _

__But it was the first time in a long while he felt like he was good enough, like he was wanted. Everyone wanted to hang out with the 'new kids', especially because they were hot and Italian._ _

__He relished in the feeling, and he loved how the girls showered him with attention whenever he spoke in Italian._ _

__But it didn't… It didn't last that long._ _

__Feliciano began to have more and more friends. He became popular in school, while Lovino was just… derping in the shadows, like a shady and angsty motherfucker. No matter how hard he tried to be good enough, he always fell short of perfection. People preferred his _fratello_ over him. They always did._ _

__Always will.__

 _ _ **X**__

 _ _It was at that time, sophomore year, when he discovered his talent in writing._ _

__He oft immersed himself in movies and books, so whenever he was bored, he would write down little ideas and excerpts that popped in his head during class, and pore over them later when he got home from school. He had… no one to pass notes with, anyway._ _

__But still, his mind was swimming in his thoughts. Continually, they slowly began to suffocate him._ _

__He couldn't stop focusing on every single mistake he had ever made, breaking it down into smaller parts, and discerning what could've been if he'd said _this_ , or if he'd done that. All that overthinking made his head spin._ _

__One morning, though, he had this— this line in his head that bugged him all morning and he couldn't shake it off, so he decided to write it down on a piece of notebook paper.

**They say 'you only gave as good as you got'  
I gave my all  
but it was still not enough**

He blinked once, twice, hazel eyes rereading the note in his sun-kissed hands. He let the words sink in as he reflected on it.

__His grip on the piece of paper tightened._ _

__The bell went off, so he stood up, shoved the note in the bottom of his backpack, and slung it over his shoulder while walking out of the classroom.__

 _ _ **X**__

 _ _That was the same note Lovino found himself rereading at the moment._ _

__He was in the midst of fixing his backpack for classes tomorrow when he came across the crumpled piece of paper._ _

__It sent his mind whirring into overdrive, when he realised something he'd been denying all along._ _

__One day, Feliciano will _inevitably_ grow up._ _

__One day, he won't need Lovino anymore._ _

__One day, he will be able to stand on his own two feet and forsake the brother that has only ever been there for him in the first place._ _

__One day, Lovino would be forgotten, his reason, his _purpose_ for existing diminishing along with it._ _

__And where the fuck would that leave him? What would he do with himself now?_ _

__What of all the things he'd ever done for Feliciano?_ _

__He's built Feliciano up, only for he himself to be the one crumbling down. He'd put Feliciano before him too much, too often, he had lost sight of himself and who he was in the first place._ _

___What do I stand for? Who am I in the first place? Dio, what do I even want?_ _ _

__Was he just a blank slate?_ _

__A stepping stone?_ _

__A scapegoat?_ _

__He felt conflicted._ _

__Slowly, he set the note back down on his desk._ _

___What'll happen to me when Feliciano doesn't need me anymore?_ He thought to himself._ _

__He wasn't really good at anything— well, nothing that'd make _Nonno_ relatively proud of him, anyway._ _

__Maybe that was why he was all alone in the penthouse he and Feliciano shared while the latter was out with his friends for dinner before college started. They— he and Lovino— breathed the same air, yes, and they lived in the same apartment, yes, and were going to the same college… yet even then, Lovino couldn't shake away the feeling that he and Feliciano were worlds away._ _

__As if they lived in two different realities._ _

__Same book, yes, but not on the same page._ _

__The Italian got up from his chair and flopped down onto the bed, a groan escaping his lips. He buried his head in the pillows for a few minutes, letting his thoughts take over, before he finally raised his head up and pulled the drawer built into his bedside table open. In it was a pad of paper, a couple of pens, a bunch of knickknacks he'd probably throw away at the end of the year._ _

He pulled the notepad and a pen out of the drawer before shutting it close. Lovino made himself more comfortable on the bed and rested his weight on his elbows, letting the words tauntingly dancing through his mind settle a bit so he could collect his thoughts and perceive what was to be written. 

__It was a bucket list. One that'd last four years— the entire duration he would be in college._ _

___'But why four years? Aren't bucket lists for life?'_ _ _

__A small bitter smile crept upon the Italian's lips._ _

__He wasn't living a life._ _

__He was merely existing._ _

__It was a pathetic ghost of all that he could've been capable of, all he could've achieved, but in the end, all his efforts had been in vain. By the time they graduated, Feliciano would be launched into a world full of opportunities that awaited him. He was an artist on the rise of glory and fame. It was only a matter of time before he reached that zenith._ _

__Feliciano wouldn't need him anymore, thus rendering Lovino's existence o- _obsolete_._ _

__The older twin, always forgotten, always hidden in the shadows, would no longer serve a fucking _purpose_._ _

___So why not embrace the dark when it's all I've ever known?_ _ _

__He brought his pen to the paper's surface. He began to write._ _

__**[_] Watch a Broadway play— Chicago preferred— with front-row seats.** _ _

__**[_] Watch a FIFA football game.** _ _

__**[_] Go to the beaches in California for spring break.** _ _

__**[_] Write a screenplay.** _ _

__**[_] Try smoking weed (YOLO?)** _ _

__**[_] Visit Verona again.** _ _

__**[_] Cruise around the streets of Paris in a limousine while drinking champagne like a classy ass motherfucker.** _ _

__**[_] Trigger a Jäger-train.** _ _

__**[_] Discover inner muse at the Louvre.** _ _

__**[_] Try absinthe in Amsterdam (fuck yeah, YOLO)** _ _

__**[_] Change someone's life.** _ _

__**[_] …Make Nonno PROUD of me for ONCE.** _ _

__The thing is, this wasn't just a bucket list, no. Because by the time he's finished all of the things on his list, Feliciano probably wouldn't need him anymore. The bucket list would give him some sort of incentive to go on with life, but when Feliciano is finally independent, he will have finally fulfilled his purpose, as well as accomplished everything he ever wanted to like for example,_ _

___Why bother staying alive when there's nothing to live for? I might as well just die, right?_ _ _

__Lovino wrote the following words at the top of the page: KICKING THE BUCKET LIST._ _

__With that, he pulled away a fraction and inspected each and every item on the list._ _

__What else do I want to do?_ _

__The corner of his lips twitched upwards into a smirk._ _

__It's something he's been wanting to do for quite a while now. Going about the task would prove to be difficult and quite possibly life-threatening, but it was a risk he'd be willing to take since the outcome would be well worth the sacrifice._ _

__**[_] Trim that stupid British eyebrow bastard's eyebrows.** _ _

__Satisfied with this, he set his pen down._ _

__The list— though subject to change— for now, was complete._ _


	2. two

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Kicking the Bucket List**

**two**

**" _Eyes like a car crash,_**

**_I know I shouldn't look_ **

**_but I can't turn away._ "**

**— _Deathbeds_ by Bring Me The Horizon**

Ah, Evergreen Hollows University— a prestigious college with world-renowned education and a bustling international community. Settled in the outskirts of the city, albeit all of the modernisation that surrounds it, it still retains its natural charm. The campus itself is partially enshrouded in the wood after which it was named.

The most popular spot for students to often frolic in was the hollow itself. It was a steep path down off the horse-trodden course (EHU also has an award-winning equestrian team). The students, often seniors who had yet to complete their thesis in order to graduate, tended to frequent the hollow around the end of the academic year.

It is said to be a popular spot for disgruntled to-be graduates to throw themselves in the literal pit of despair when they finally realised they could not keep up with all the requirements, and were bound to repeat another year. It was said that once they went in the wood during that specific time of year, they were never seen alive again.

Others said that in the wood— the hollow, specifically, lurked numerous monstrous atrocities of folklore— or Creepypasta; whichever you prefer. Many freshmen are oft coerced (forced) into trekking in the forest in the dead of night, with naught but a single flashlight to illuminate their paths and paranoia-stricken hallucinations of Slenderman derping in the shadows behind that tree!

Why?

In order to be accepted into the various fraternities and sororities the university had of course. None were officialised by EHU, but ran rampant anyway.

Lovino… wasn't exactly sure that the fuck he was thinking when he applied for this school. Actually, yeah, he _did_ — which may or may not be partly because of Feliciano— but that was besides the point.

He also thought that his college guide needed to lay the fuck off the Internet and conspiracy theories.

Maybe get a life— _Hah! Fucking ironic._ — or quite possibly get laid.

_At least,_ he thought to himself, _I got to enrol in the course I wanted._

He would be taking creative writing, webbed with Performing Arts. In the near future, he was to begin dabbling in screenplay writing that would undoubtedly rake in The Big Bucks. Y'know. Movie-worthy scripts, like anything by Nicholas Sparks or John Green. In his fourth year, he would become a playwright for his very own play, collaborating with those taking courses under Performing Arts, only with different roles. He would be working with the actors and actresses, the prop-makers, the stage hands, the directors, and everyone else essential in the making of a play and bringing it to life.

Truth be told, he was excited about it— but _only just a little_ , dammit!

Feliciano's major, however, would be— surprise, surprise— art with specialisation in painting. It shouldn't be too hard for him. Feliciano's already had his work displayed in exhibits, after all. Even back in Italy.

…Talented little shit.

Now all of this was just a five-minute walk away from campus.

If _only_ Feliciano would hurry up so they could, gee, perhaps maybe leave?

Lovino rapped his knuckles against Feliciano's bedroom door for the umpteenth time, feeling impatient and irritated. "Feli, hurry the fuck up already! It's the first day of fucking classes and I _don't_ wanna miss shit!"

"Ve~ Just a minute!" Feliciano jovially sung out from the other side of the door. "I'm almost done, _fratello_ ~!"

Several more seconds of shuffling and fussing about later, the door had open to reveal a photo op-ready Feliciano, who was practically bouncing out of the room in excitement. "Let's go, _fratello_! Don't want to be late now, don't we? We're finally in college! I'm so excited! I can't wait to make new friends in the art department and—"

" _Dio mio_ ," Lovino quickly interjected, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Shut up, Feliciano. I don't want a migraine on the first day of class, dammit!"

Feli pouted at him. "Ve~ I hope you make friends Lovi…" His voice was laced with concern, as if it were something important enough to be concerned about.

The older twin snorted, shaking his head at the thought. "Yeah, yeah; whatever."

With that, the twins made their way out of their apartment building and walked to school.

**X**

Lovino's first class of the day was math.

There were many things he sucked at, and algebra was one of them ( _fuck algebra_ ).

However, his class starts at nine-forty. Thus, he had an hour or so to kill. Feliciano immediately surrounded himself with his friends from high school who were taking different courses. Lovino, merely fulfilling his purpose, kinda just fucking _loomed_ behind Feliciano. His _fratello's_ shitty friends didn't acknowledge him.

_Actually, fuck this shit. I need caffeine._ He suddenly decided, abruptly turning around and stalking off to the general direction of the Starbucks the twins had passed earlier. As if on cue, Feliciano, at that moment, decided to pull Lovi in the conversation so he wouldn't be so alone.

"Ve~ Tell them about your course, Lovi…" he trailed off, watching his _fratello_ storm off. For a split second, his mouth curved down into an uncharacteristic frown before he managed to put on a smile again.

Just as he was about to apologise for his brother just… walking away, he was— "Oi, Feli! Over here!" —interrupted.

He turned around to face the source of the noise and beamed. "Hi Gilbert!"

Feliciano excused himself from his group of friends and skipped over to the sophomore he hadn't seen nearly all year. Immediately, he gave the self-proclaimed Prussian a hug. "Ve~ I haven't seen you in _ages_! I'm so glad to see you!"

The Prussian hugged back with just as much vigour as the two swayed from side to side. "Kesese~ I missed you too, Feli-cakes!" He pulled away a fraction, a look of mock surprise and astonishment on his face. "What's this? I hugged you, yet there's no protective older brother to assault me?! _Mein Gott_ , this is awesome!"

The Italian sighed, "He walked off somewhere just a minute ago. I hope he's alri—"

" _Mon Dieu_ , it that you, Feliciano?"

Feliciano turned to Big Brother Francis, hugging him ebulliently. He hadn't seen him nearly all year either! _Ve~ This is great!_

Francis hugged him back, his hand inconspicuously drifting down towards some Italian Ass. Feliciano picked up on it, so he pulled away from the hug, the Frenchman's hand dropping back down to his side with it.

If Lovi saw him hugging Francis and Gilbert, he'd be having a fit!

He didn't understand why Lovi hated them so much. They're pretty nice…

A voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Feliciano, we'd like you to meet our friend Antoine," Francis said, pushing a man towards the smaller Italian. 'Antoine' had unruly brown hair, tan skin, and shining emerald eyes. A tinge of red had dusted 'Antoine's' sun-kissed cheeks.

"Ahaha~ _Hola_ , Feliciano! Just call me Antonio or Toni." Antonio said, sheepishly grinning at the Italian. The latter smiled at him.

"Ve~ And, of course, I'm Feliciano! But you can call me Feli." The two shook hands for a second, though Antonio's hand lingered for a moment longer than it should have.

" _Si_ , _si_! It's nice to meet you, Feli!" Toni chirped, his grin widening.

Feliciano pulled his hand away, "Nice to meet you too, Toni!"

Gilbert had wrapped his arm around Antonio's shoulder, putting his weight on the other. "Kesese~ Antonio here has been our friend for _years_! Thing is, the year he left for Spain was the year _you_ came in. But thank _Gott_ he moved back here for freshman year in college! Franny and I thought we'd never be able to see him until we graduated!"

Antonio laughed along, his eyes twinkling. And not in that same menacing way Gilbert's ruby red eyes did, or in the knowing way Big Brother Francis' cerulean blue eyes did. He just looked so happy~!

… _Very_ happy~!

Feliciano knew that look. It was the same look many boys and girls had given him before Lovi put his _Virginity Guardian Armour_ on and just— h- _hovered_ there and glared at them until they left. If they were persistent, he would cut them down with his words.

I-It was very effective, ve~

_Oh,_ fratello _…_

**X**

Meanwhile, Lovino had stepped into Starbucks, the fragrant aroma of coffee wafting through the air. He got in the relatively short queue, eyes scanning the menu overhead even though he had his order in mind already. Just as the guy in front of him turned around after getting his coffee, hazel eyes met forest green ones.

The Italian's throat constricted and he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Almost immediately, he felt his cheeks warm as the stranger gave him an amiable smile, the tilt of his head sending tousled, vibrant red— _Dio mio_ , such a beautiful shade of _rosso_ — locks over his forehead.

"Good mornin'," he said, the timbre of his voice sending shivers down his spine. And holy shit, that fucking accent. _Unf._ Where was he from? He sounded English, for all the Italian knew, yet it wasn't the same accent the eyebrow bastard had used.

He walked past Lovino and out of the store, Lovino's heart racing as he quickly turned around to watch the retreating redhead walk in the general direction of the campus. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

"…Sir? Would you still like to order?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, he turned to face the girl manning the cashier and he gave her a charming smile all the while trying to suppress the flush that had kissed his tan cheeks. He quickly ordered his caffeine fix in hopes of seeing the redhead still walking down the street, though he doubted he would still see him.

As soon as he got his non-fat caramel macchiato latte with a helping of whipped cream and chocolate syrup, he half-sprinted out of the store and stared down the path _he_ took.

It was just as he expected. The redhead was gone.

The Italian suddenly found the urge to write lots and lots about this stranger, his inner muse acting up.

_What the fuck's gotten into me, d-dammit…_

**X**

By the time the first class was to begin, Lovino had taken a seat at the back of the room, paper and pen poised before him on the desk.

He c-couldn't shake the thoughts of _him_ out of his head. A-And it was annoying as fuck— he was supposed to be concentrating on the lesson or introduction that was to come, and that redheaded bastard was fucking with his thoughts, dammit!

It's _all his fault_.

…A-All his… fault.

The room began to fill with freshman students; his future peers. They occupied the seats in groups and cliques, both a mixture of those who went to the same high school and those who met at EHU's freshman general assembly a week ago.

A brunette walked up to the seat beside his. "Um, excuse me," he said.

Lovino glanced up to look at him. "The fuck do you want?"

"Ahaha~ I was wondering if this seat was taken?" he asked, grinning sheepishly at the Italian.

The latter's eyes narrowed a fraction. "…No, it isn't."

"Then can I, ah, sit here?"

"Cheh. Do whatever you want, bastard." Lovino turned away.

The brunette grinned, laughing lightly. " _Gracias, mi amigo_! I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, by the way. You?"

Lovino scowled at Antonio. "I'm not your fucking _amigo_ , dammit. Now leave me the fuck alone!"

"Then tell me your name first~!"

The Italian looked at the Spaniard incredulously. "…Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because we're going to be seatmates all year?"

_Tch, touché._

Lovi sighed and mumbled something incoherent under his breath.

Antonio leant forward a fraction. "What?"

Another mumble.

"What was that now?"

The other suddenly snapped his head to face the Spaniard, hazel eyes alight with irritation. The latter was taken aback, nonplussed by the reaction. Did he say something wrong..?

"I said my name is Lovino. Now leave me the fuck alone, dammit!"

Toni half-raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay; _lo siento_ ,"

The Italian didn't give a response, engrossing himself with pen and paper. He was writing something down, the tip of the pen bobbing to and fro frantically.

Antonio was confused. The first class of the year hadn't started yet, and they had homework already? He shook the thoughts out of his head and replayed the morning over and over in his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

_Feliciano is so cute~!_

Truth be told, the moment he saw the cute and bubbly Italian, he was immediately attracted to him. Everything about Feliciano was so _adorable_ ~!

Antonio was sure everything about Feliciano was wonderful. The next time he saw Feliciano, he'd definitely ask him out!

_Maybe I should ask Franny or Gil to help me out,_ he thought to himself, pulling a notebook out from his backpack. He cracked it open and went to the very back of the notebook. He drew a pen out of his pocket and immediately began to scribble hearts with Feli's name in them.

He was smitten, alright.

**X**

As Lovino tried to ignore the presence beside him, he knew it was inevitable that he'd have a seatmate. He just hoped the bastard would know to leave him alone.

He reread the page, poring over his handiwork with eyes censorious and critical.

it's funny how seeing someone  
for only a split second  
can stir such a tempest  
of confusion inside of you  
and awaken things you've never  
known you were capable  
of feeling before.  
all falls apart yet falls into place  
like the calm in the eye of a storm.  
despite all this confusion  
i still want to see you  
again and again and again. 

He gulped, feeling conscious and hyperaware of the person beside him. Normally, he wouldn't give two shits about his seatmates, but that was only because the things he wrote were not related to love, nothing cringe-worthy. No, not at all.

He'd be lying if he said he's written about love before.

The Italian anxiously chewed on his bottom lip.

_…You've captivated me._

**X**

The professor immediately began the introduction of the subject, handing out the syllabi and going over their schedule in preparation for the weeks ahead, as well as a briefing on the topic they'd be having during their next meeting.

Lovino was listening, he wrote down notes and all, but he felt like he was stuck elsewhere.

Like he wasn't in the room. He did things automatically, as if on autopilot, and as soon as the bell rang, he just walked out of class, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

The sheet of paper was neatly folded and tucked into his the pocket of his jeans.

Moments after keeping his things, Antonio got up and walked out of the room for his next subject.

The notebook that he'd been doodling on was safely tucked in the confines of his backpack.

Neither person had said one word to the other the entire class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**  
>  fratello - brother (It.)  
> Dio mio - Oh my God (It.)  
> Mein Gott - Oh my God (Dt.)  
> Mon Dieu - Oh my God (Fr.)  
> hola - hello (Esp.)  
> si - yes (Esp.)  
> Gott - God (Dt.)  
> rosso - red (It.)  
> gracias - thank you (Esp.)  
> mi amigo - my friend (Esp.)  
> lo siento - sorry (Esp.)
> 
>  
> 
> **For this fic, I will be going with Himaruya's perception of Scotland, which is: "In my image, He is friendly and brave. likes alcoholic, cat, haggis, rich cultural heritage!"**
> 
>  
> 
> **Feel free to comment!**
> 
>  
> 
> **~jellydonut16~**


	3. three

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_ **

**three**

**"I would  
rather be  
lost in a city  
than in a person."  
— Noor Shirazie**

To say Lovino was worried was an understatement. He was _terrified_.

And who wouldn't be, feeling all of these foreign… _emotions_ out of the blue, merely after catching a glimpse of a passing stranger? A beautiful, mesmerising exception in the sea of people that surrounded him.

He'd never been in love before, and though he _did_ often flirt with girls, he hadn't the desire to kiss them, or to be anything more than friends or acquaintances with them. In fact, if you'd asked him what he thought of love prior this morning, his answer would've been along the lines of, _What even is love?_

_Why is it called that?_

_How does one know if it truly_ is _love and not some impassioned momentary infatuation? Temporary hormone-induced frisson?_

_Love, in a supposed romantic sense, is a four-letter lie filled with false hope and empty promises. It's as trivial as it is superfluous._

But now he wasn't so sure.

"… _Fratello_? _Fratello_! Ve~ Lovi, listen when I'm talking to you~!" Feliciano's whining had eventually gotten to the older Vargas brother and it brought him out of his reverie. He licked his lips and turned to face Feliciano, eyes narrowed in slight irritation.

"What? What is it?" He demanded, feeling heat creep up his cheeks as if he'd been caught doing something bad. Was it guilt he was feeling, or embarrassment?

"Lovi," Feli reiterated, grabbing his _fratello's_ arm and giving it a small shake. "My professor for Introduction to Art is _the_ Theodore Lennox! Ve~ I'm so excited!"

Lovino raised an eyebrow up, "Who the fuck is that?"

Feliciano pulled away a fraction, aghast, "Duh! He's only, like, one of the _biggest_ influences in my art! His works are _extraordinary_! _Dio mio_ , Lovi, I feel so honoured just being in his presence~!"

The other Italian snorted. "Yeah, whatever. Calm your tits, Feliciano."

Almost instinctively, Feli gasped and put his hands over his chest in mock offence. "Ve~ I don't have boobs, _fratello_! That's mean!"

The older twin held back a chuckle. _What a fucking idiot._

"Anyways, how was your morning, _fratello_? Did you make any friends?" Feliciano queried, reaching over to shake Lovino's arm again. The latter shrugged his arm out of the former's grasp, rolling his eyes.

"Well, what do you think?"

Feliciano sighed, pouting at his older brother in a mixture of disapproval and disappointment. _Ve~ Why can't he at least_ try _to make friends?_

"Ve~ Why can't you at least _try_ to make friends?"

"Why the fuck should I?"

"Well, _why not_?"

"Hmm. Touché, but no."

Feliciano harrumphed and put his hands on either side of his waist. Lovino internally cringed. _Fuck my life, not another one of Feliciano's_ _fucking sermons, goddammit, what the_ fuck _…_

The younger of the two had these… parental moments, in which he would actually fucking _lecture_ Lovino about the importance of friends and branching out to others so he wouldn't feel so alone. The latter, at first, found them hysterical. He couldn't take his brother seriously (TBH, he still doesn't), so he just sat there, trying to suppress his raucous laughter.

But over time, it just kinda became more… bland and pathetic, so Lovino was just like, "Meh, whatever."

Just as Feliciano was about to begin the 30-minute lecture that'd probably consume the rest of their lunch break, someone had called out to him.

"Hey, Feli!"

Both the Vargas brothers turned to look at the source of the noise. Lovino internally seethed. It was the annoying fucker from his morning algebra class, dammit.

Antonio jogged over, looking so fucking _jovial_ , Lovino could feel the happiness emanating from the Spaniard's being.

Ew.

"How the fuck does he know you?" Lovino asked, only loud enough for Feli to hear as Toni soon approached them.

Feliciano laughed nervously. Lovi felt suspicious and skeptical as fuck.

As Antonio's jogging slowed down to a walk, he cast a brief glance at Lovino. "Oh, _hola_ , Lovino."

The latter sneered. "Fuck off."

The Spaniard, feeling sheepish and awkward, glanced at Feliciano. "Say, can I, uh, talk to you for a second?"

"Ve~ I'm all ears." Feliciano cheerfully replied, though he was internally panicking.

"…Ahaha~ In private?" Toni added, casting a quick glance at the other twin.

"Look, bastard, whatever you have to say to Feliciano, you can say in front of me." Lovino grit out, glaring daggers at the brunette.

"Uh… _Si, si_! Okay then~!"

Big mistake, Antonio.

"Feliciano, would you like to go out with me sometime?"

_Very big mistake._

Almost instantly, there was a huge crash that got both Antonio and Feliciano's attention— the metaphorical sound of Lovino putting his _Virginity Guardian Armour_ on, and the literal sound of his fists slamming against the outdoor plastic table. Feli began to panic, rushing to his older brother's side.

"Excuse _you_?" Lovino demanded the Spaniard, standing up from his seat. "What the fuck do you think you're _doing_?"

"Ve~ Lovi, calm down!" Feliciano whined, clinging to his brother like a leech.

"'Excuse me'..? I— I was just—" Antonio stuttered, alarmed with the reaction of the seething Italian.

_Mierda. Why is he always so angry? What did I do?!_

"Toni! Run! Run like the wind, ve~!" The other twin cried out as Lovino started to stomp towards Antonio. The latter instinctively took several steps back in shock.

"That's _my brother_ you're hitting on, you bastard! And if you think I'm gonna turn a blind eye while you corrupt _mio fratello's_ mind and body with your fucking idiocy and Spanishness, dammit, then you've got another thing coming right at you, dick weed!" With that being said, Lovino began to stomp (limp) towards the Spaniard, albeit the extra baggage and weight that came in the form of his younger brother.

Antonio stilled, shocked. But that only lasted a moment before he turned around and took off.

"Yeah, that's right! You _better_ run, you piece of shit!" Lovino growled out, trying to pry his _fratellino_ off of his being. "Dammit, Feliciano! Let go of me! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"V-Ve~ You didn't have to be so mean, _fratello_! I would have turned him down, anyway!"

The older Vargas brother gave Feli The Evil Eye. "No," he said, voice low, grave and ominous. "You wouldn't have. You would've said 'yes' because you don't know how to let people off nicely. You're too kind, dammit. You wear your heart on your sleeve and I don't want you getting hurt, Feliciano…"

Feliciano's honey brown eyes softened as he pulled away from his brother, taking his hand. "I know that, _fratello_. But I don't want you to get hurt either."

"I don't get hurt. And even if I did, I could take it anyway." Lovino quickly interjected, his frown deepening.

The other twin opened his mouth to retort, only to close it again and shake his head sadly.

Lovino hated that he upset Feliciano. All he wanted to do was to protect him, yet here his younger brother was, hurt. Because of him.

He hated himself for it. He shrugged Feliciano's hand off, grabbed his backpack and walked away.

All he ever does is hurt people.

And in turn, they hurt him.

It's a fucked up concept of 'give-and-take', but this was his reality. There was nothing else he could do about it, right?

* * *

 

Lovino wandered to the outskirts of the campus, nearing the wood. He saw a well worn path leading into the thick forest and briefly contemplated going in.

He decided he didn't want to die an early death yet— he hadn't completed a thing on his bucket list, after all— and opted to walk past the pathway and to some sort of garden.

It was filled with flora of all types, with the shrubbery clipped to perfection.

After walking a bit more, he discovered he was the only one there. He saw a bench nearby, so he sat on it and pulled the note out of his pocket. Carefully, he unfolded it, and read it again with caution.

How could someone have such an effect on him?

If only he could see those beautiful forest green eyes again.

He closed his eyes and sighed, thinking of what had just transpired earlier with Feliciano. Thoughts begin to run rampant in his head. Words began to form.

Abruptly, his hazel eyes snapped open and he reached for his backpack, hastily reaching for his notepad before the words left him. He fumbled around for a pen and immediately scribbled down his thoughts at the moment, word for word.

**i will push you away  
** **and wonder why  
** **no one ever  
** **comes to save me**

He held the notepad close to his face, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised the last line.

' _Save me'?_

Save him from what? What was he, some kind of fucking 'damsel-in-distress'? Hell, he could take what all those bullies have dealt him, but they couldn't take what they dished out.

He's strong, yet at the same time, he is weak. All these years of protecting Feliciano, yet the very action had hardened his heart, whilst Feliciano wore his on his sleeve. So free, so daring— because love is a scary thing.

At least it is, for Lovino. He could never bear the thought of baring himself to someone, letting them in. Because once you let someone in, they go ahead and they destroy you.

He's never experienced it before, but he won't, he _doesn't want to_.

But the stranger with the eyes as green as the wood that surrounded him… Would Lovino… let him in?

Would that stranger be the one he opens his heart to? He imagined hushed whispering with him at 3AM, the bedsheets riding low on their bare hips as the words he whispers are the truest he has ever said to anyone. But then that'd prove all he's told himself out loud has been nothing but lies.

Has it always been a lie?

…He has too many issues, dammit. And if he couldn't understand the intricacies of his inner workings, how could anyone else?

Nobody could ever love someone like him, anyway, so why the hell did it even matter to him?

Why _should_ it matter to him? Right?

* * *

 

After the first day of classes, Lovino walked home alone. Feliciano was going to hang out with his friends a bit longer before going home as well.

Barely five minutes had passed, and Lovino already found himself in front of their apartment building. He went up to the penthouse and left his bag on the floor by the couch before collapsing on top of it.

He just felt so fucking tired.

Was having emotions other than anger actually _this_ exhausting?

Kudos to Feliciano, then. And other normal people as well.

After lying on the couch for a few minutes, he decided to move to his bedroom. He sat on the bed and an aggravated sigh escaped his lips.

He reached for the Kicking The Bucket List atop his bedside table and pulled it open, examining each and every item. Most of the items consisted of travelling, seeing the world before he left it of his own accord.

It was pretty ironic, to say the least. That's what made it— in a sick, twisted sense of humour— funny.

* * *

 

"…And then he just started chasing me! I didn't know what to do, so I ran away," Antonio expressively recalled what had happened during lunch, along with boisterous hand gestures and exaggerated pitches in his voice.

Francis shook his head in disapproval whilst Gilbert, on the other hand, shook with mirth.

" _Mon ami_ , I never thought you would give up so easily," the blond chastised, waggling his finger before the brunette.

The latter let out an easy laugh, shaking his head. "No, of course not! I'm not giving up on Feliciano just yet, Franny. Ahaha~ You should know me better than that!"

Gilbert gave his friend a good ol' pat on the back. "Good luck with that, _mein Freund_! Even Francis and I have tried dating Feli, but, _Gott_ , that annoying brother of his always gets in the way! Like, what's his deal? It's _so_ not awesome."

Antonio nodded his head in understanding, "Granted, it's gonna be hard with Lovino in the way, but if there's one thing I know, it's that Feliciano is worth it~!"

The three raised their drinks up; tequila for Toni, beer for Gil, and red wine for Francis, and clinked their glasses together in unison.

"Cheers!"

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Feliciano was sitting with his friends in the diner near the campus. He'd ordered a strawberry milkshake and a serving of fries, and was now chatting contentedly with his friends while waiting for his order.

The door opened with the sound of the bell above it ringing, and in walked one of Feliciano's best friends from high school— Kiku Honda.

He knew Kiku would be taking engineering, but he hadn't seen Kiku in EHU all day! So he momentarily assumed that Kiku had moved to another college at the last minute. In fact, Feliciano was intent on interrogating him about it via Facebook the moment he got home~! This was wonderful!

"Ve~ Kiku! Over here!"

Kiku's dark brown eyes widened in recognition of the voice and immediately turned to face the speaker. Behind the Japanese teen was an awkward yet stern looking blond with his hair slicked back. When he, too, turned to face the source of the noise, Feliciano found himself staring at the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

His heart skipped a beat.

He stood up to greet them, his smile widening a bit more.

* * *

 

"Say, _amigo_ , where's Ludwig? You _did_ say he was going to enrol here, right?" Antonio queried, nudging Gilbert's shoulder.

The albino didn't tear his carmine eyes off of the TV overhead the bar, but he didn't skip a beat when he answered. " _Ja_ , he is. His flight from military school was delayed early this morning, so he got here around lunchtime. I'll see him when I get home though."

"Ah, I see. I haven't seen him in ages! I wonder how big he's gotten. What course is he taking in EHU?"

"Kesese~ _mein Bruder's_ taking engineering. I'm proud of him."

* * *

 

"Ve~ _Ciao_! My name is Feliciano! What's yours?" Feliciano asked the tall and robust blond, who pretty much towered over everyone else in the diner.

Clear blue eyes darted around the room momentarily before locking with the Italian's honey brown gaze. The blond curtly stuck his hand out. " _Hallo_ , my name is Ludwig Beilschmidt. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Is it okay if I call you Luddy? You can call me Feli if you want~!"

Ludwig took a step back, at a loss for what to say. Not even ten seconds of meeting this person, Feliciano already had a nickname for him!

The two stared at each other for a good full minute before Ludwig finally cleared his throat. "I… I guess you can—"

"Yay!" Feliciano tackled the blond in a hug, leaving the latter rigid in temporary paralysis. "Hi, Luddy~!"

_M-Mein… Mein Gott. What have I done?_

* * *

 

Hours later, Lovino had awoken from his nap. It was dark now, but there was no source of light coming from the hallway, so Feliciano wasn't home yet.

The brunette got up, scratching his back and yawning. He then shuffled into his bathroom to take a shower. When he'd finished and gotten dressed, he decided to derp around on the Internet and kill some time before he made himself a ciabatta sandwich for dinner.

That was his first mistake.

As bored as he was, he, of his own accord, went onto YouTube.

That was his second mistake.

Scrolling through his suggested videos, he came across one that got his attention. **'Shrek Is Love, Shrek Is Life. (Original)'**. The video had millions of hits, so he decided, _why the fuck not, right?_

He clicked on it.

That was his third mistake.

**' _I was only nine years old. I loved Shrek so much. I had all the merchandise and movies.'_**

_Wait, what?_

**' _I prayed to Shrek every night, thanking him for the life I've been given. "Shrek is love," I say, "Shrek is life.'_**

_What the fuck is this?_

**' _My dad hears me and calls me a faggot.'_**

Lovino suddenly burst out laughing. He stared at the screen, watching intently for what was to happen next.

That was when it all went downhill.

A traumatised "Oh my God…" escaped his lips as he sat before the Macbook, rigid in horror.

He wanted to close the tab, to close the fucking window, but it was so fucking _disturbing_ , he just— he just couldn't pull away. He was frozen in his spot from what he saw.

And ultimately, he had inadvertently watched it right to the very end.

He sat there in silence, barely breathing, barely moving an inch for a full minute, before something snapped inside of him. _That's enough internet for today, d-dammit…_

Feeling frantic, he hastily ran his fingers over his trackpad and scrolled the pointer up to the red exit button. He then scrolled the pointer to the upper left corner and over the Apple on the menu bar.

He selected _Shut Down…_ and the screen immediately went black.

Lovino hastily got up from his seat and bolted to his bed, quickly ducking under the duvet. He curled up into a foetal position, trying to push all thoughts discerning Shrek and that deranged, creepy fucker out of his head.

_Dio mio_ , he _knew_ he was gay, but to see it so— _narrated_ so… _I don't even know anymore. What the fuck did I just fucking watch?!_

The Italian was a hundred percent done with life.

So he skipped dinner and opted to go straight to sleep.

_Oh, God, the_ horror _._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> fratello - brother (It.)  
>  Dio mio - oh my God (It.)  
>  hola - hello (Esp.)   
> si - yes (Esp.)  
>  mierda - shit (Esp.)   
> mio fratello - my brother (It.)   
> fratellino - younger brother (It.)  
>  mon ami - my friend (Fr.)   
> mein Freund - my friend (Dt.)   
> Gott - God (Dt.)   
> amigo - friend (Esp.)   
> ja - yes (Dt.)  
>  mein Bruder - my brother (Dt.)  
>  ciao - hello (It.)  
>  hallo - hello (Dt.)  
>  mein Gott - oh my God (Dt.)


	4. four

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_ **

**four**

**" _I'm a mess, that's the best way to describe it.  
Having no time to myself's the only way I can fight it.  
When I'm alone, it's like I'm staring into a mirror.  
Don't know the person inside, and that's never been any clearer._ "  
** **— _You Be Tails, I'll Be Sonic_ by A Day To Remember**

The next day was the general assembly for Performing Arts students. Evergreen Hollows University had many departments, under which were many more courses under those respective departments' care.

Whilst Feliciano belonged to the Art Department, Lovino belonged to the one of the Theatre of Performing Arts. There was a General Education Department, as well as as one for Technical Engineering and EHU's world-class Business School, amongst many, many more departments in the campus.

The older Vargas brother had woken up considerably early in the morning to get ready— the general assembly itself was earlier than his first class. The good thing is that he'd be having Intro to Creative Writing today. Finally, there'd be something more… structured to write about.

Lovino liked structured, truth be told. He knew what to expect, so he knew what to do. Not having control over the situation he was in gave him the distinct feeling of frustration, anger and confusion that kinda made him want to throw himself in front of a bus.

…Yeah.

_That_ bad.

Yet at the same time, he hated that he was a creature of routine, bound to the same schedule that likely would never change. It was another reason to why he had the Bucket List.

Goddammit, he wanted _change_. He didn't want to be bound like this anymore, fuck, he wanted _freedom_.

But he was scared of what he wasn't used to.

It was fucking paradoxical and he hated it.

The brunette took a quick shower and got changed into a black button down and dark wash jeans, slipping his feet into his well-worn black Vans. As he exited the bedroom, he noticed the smell of cooking wafting from the direction of the kitchen area.

Feliciano was busying himself in the kitchen, stirring something in a small pot with a wooden spoon. Immediately, he picked up the presence of his older brother and turned to face him, beaming. " _Buon giorno_ , _fratello_! I made pancakes~!"

He motioned to two plates set on the white marble island counters. There were two stacks of pancakes on it, each stacked to perfection.

"Why the hell are you up so early?" Lovino mumbled, automatically heading over to the cupboards to grab a bottle of maple syrup.

The younger of the two let out an enigmatic giggle, "I don't know, _fratello_. I just feel so very happy today! I feel like I'm on top of the world~!"

Lovi rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Feliciano. Or at least tone it the fuck down, it's too early to be on top of the world."

Feliciano laughed, pulling away from the pot to wrap his arms around Lovino's waist. "Aww~ Don't be so grumpy, Lovi! It's too early to be angry~!"

"What the fuck are you on, dammit?" Lovino growled out, prying Feliciano's arms off of his waist as his face flushed in frustration. "Why are you so _happy_ today?"

"Ve~ I think it's time for some hug therapy~!" Feli sang out as Lovino whirled around to face the pot. He took one glance at it and lowered the heat.

"What the fuck, Feliciano, you put the heat up too high, dammit. The compote's gonna stick to the bottom of the pot and it's gonna be a fucking bitch to wash off," he then added as an afterthought, "And screw your hug therapy, _idiota_. What kind of compote is this?"

"Ve~ It's a blueberry and strawberry compote~"

"Why couldn't you have gotten a bottle of jam, like what _normal_ people do?" The older twin complained, grabbing the spoon and stirring the mixed berry compote around.

"Because I know you prefer this to jam, even if it takes a bit more time to make."

Hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion met honey brown ones. "Why are you doing this?"

Feliciano pouted. "Ve~ Why not?"

Lovino rolled his eyes as he switched the stove off, "Cheh, because you normally don't?"

"I don't what, _fratello_?" Feliciano queried, automatically moving out of the way as Lovino turned around to face the island counter and poured the compote into two equal parts on top of each pancake stack to Instagram-worthy perfection.

"Do things for me. Tch, you _have_ to have some incentive or something, dammit. So just tell me what the fuck it is!"

Almost immediately, he pulled the plate towards himself and began to demolish the stack, bit by bit.

The younger of the two sat at on one of the barstools, opposite his brother. "Can't I just do something nice for you?"

Lovino glanced up momentarily. "You could, but you usually don't. But whatever. Fuck it."

Feliciano hesitantly reached for his fork and butter knife, "Ve~ Why are you in such a hurry, _fratello_?" Almost immediately, his eyes brightened as he beamed excitedly at his older brother. "Ooh~ Are you meeting up with someone? Meeting up with _friends_?!"

Feli's interest (obsession) with Lovino's social life— or lack, thereof— was kind of sad and pitiful sometimes. At least, that was what the older twin told himself.

Lovino rolled his eyes, " _No_ , I am not meeting up with friends. I have a general assembly to go to." He momentarily pulled away to take a quick glance at his watch. "Fuck. I have to go."

With that, he finished the rest of his pancakes and strode over to the other side of the apartment in order to retrieve his backpack where he'd left it.

"Ve~ I'll see you during lunch, Lovi! I'll text you!" Feliciano called out, waving his _fratello_ goodbye.

"Yeah, yeah," the other mumbled, rolling his eyes. "I'll see you later."

* * *

Evergreen Hollows University's Theatre of Performing Arts was an iconic theatre in the state. It was both an artistically freeing and an architectural beacon of light in the city, which drew crowds upon crowds of avid musical and opera lovers, many wishing to experience the breathtaking performances for which the department was known for.

Lovino felt his heart race against his chest in anticipation. A flurry of people, of faces he's never seen before, surrounded him as his palms began to sweat in anxiousness.

This was to be his sanctuary; his solace.

These people… he would be working with them one day, dammit, whether he liked it or not!

He could already feel his inner muse pulsating from within his being, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Merely the structure itself was astonishing. It was so _surreal_.

This… _This_ was and is the place from which he would draw inspiration, the motivation to move others with his written words. To make them feel a plethora of emotions unlike any other.

He gulped, taking another glance up at the tall building.

It was sleek and modern; pillars of iron bars held up the foundations of the building as the walls were paned with glass. _Dio_ , it must really look stunning at night.

Carefully, oh-so carefully, he made his way up the grey slate steps leading to the grand double doors, both thrown open in an inviting manner. He stepped inside, glancing up at the scene before him. Grand white marble, high arches and onyx black trimmings boasted and exuded power and elegance over the mere mortals that entered.

This is where plays, books, and _dreams_ come to life. This is where they become sempiternal.

There were many people already present, now in the midst of shuffling in the theatre itself. It lifted Lovino's spirits up a bit just by being surrounded by all of these people who share the same passion for theatrics.

Lovino had made his way down the descending path to the front of the theatre, taking a seat somewhere near the stage. There were many bustling about, trying to get things in order at the last minute.

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into his seat. It took ten minutes or so before the orientation began.

The Dean of the Performing Arts department came up on stage and gave them words of encouragement, welcoming the new students. One by one, the seniors who were in charge of handling the ropes of majority of the department's plays came up on stage and introduced themselves. Lovino honestly couldn't find it in himself to give a shit, senior or not. He busied himself by picking at his nails, but then—

"'Ello? Good mornin', everyone,"

—his heart skipped a beat and his head snapped up at breakneck speed. Hazel eyes locked with forest green ones, once again. He sat up straighter on his seat, feeling his face flush a deep crimson. He covered the lower half of his face with one hand as he tried to suppress his blushing.

_He_ was there, right before him.

Right before Lovino.

"Okay! Righ'. M' name's Allistor Kirkland, but yeh can call me Allistor. Ah'm a senior an' Ah'm takin' up Performin' Arts as a play director, though Ah've already dabbled wif a bi' of actin' of my own." Allistor began, the lights focused on him. Lovino nearly melted in his seat, _Dio mio_ , he was so _close_ to him, but _not close enough_. The redhead was wearing a crisp, white linen button down and light wash jeans. He looked like perfection personified.

"Since yeh're all takin' courses under Performin' Arts, yeh'll be assistin' me for some of th' plays for th' rest of th' school year. Take i' as some kind of… _practice_ for when we pass on th' ropes to yeh an' let yeh run majority o' th' plays next school year. It's very nice ta meet yeh all, an' Ah hope we can be friends." With that, he gave an awkward smile and wave at the crowd before setting the mic back down onto the stand. He jogged down the front steps and passed by Lovino, the intoxicating scent of the redhead suddenly saturating the air around him. His head spun.

For a second, their eyes locked. The Italian found it hard to breathe.

He waited for a flicker of recognition to sweep through those forest green eyes, but there was none. His heart suddenly sank to the bottom of his chest.

_He didn't remember me,_ he thought to himself, trying to steady his breaths. Another speaker had gone up on stage, but he wasn't paying attention to her. _Of course he doesn't remember me, dammit. I'm nothing but another passing face._

He hated this. He hated how someone he barely knew could have such an effect on him, on his mind and body.

* * *

After the orientation, he had lingered around awkwardly, inconspicuously (he hoped) trying to catch another glimpse of Allistor again. Just _once_ , _Dio mio_ , only once.

_Then,_ Lovino told himself. _I'll leave._

Several more minutes or so of searching through the crowd, the Italian saw him again. Before he could even stop himself, he began to walk slowly, oh-so slowly to the redhead, who was animatedly talking to someone.

But then Lovino stopped.

He was practically in front of Allistor now, trying to catch his attention. Trying to catch his eye.

Once again, the Italian went unnoticed. His heart sank just a bit more.

He whispered under his breath, "I'm right in front of you, but your eyes don't see me."

He did naught but stand there in silence. Then he shook his head and walked away. _As I should've done so in the first place,_ he reasoned with himself. All he wanted at first was just another glance, and he got that. But then he wanted more. He should've fucking left, d-dammit…

_Because if there's_ one _thing I've learnt all these years of just being me, it's that I only want what I can't have._

It was a bad habit of his, he glumly admitted to himself.

He glanced down at his feet, his face red hot with embarrassment and frustration. Why the fuck did he have to feel this way? Why the fuck did he have to feel at _all_ , like _fuck emotions_. Fuck _having_ emotions, dammit—

Abruptly, someone bumped into him, breaking his train of thought.

"Lovi, oh my gosh, is that _you_?"

Lovino turned around to face the speaker, an easygoing smile on his face. " _Buon giorno_ , Bella."

The bubbly Belgian blond wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "It's _so_ nice to see you again! I never pegged you the type to take up acting, Lovi,"

He chuckled, awkwardly returning the embrace. "And you were right. I'm not. Actually, I'm taking Creative Writing under Performing Arts, so…"

She pulled away, patting his shoulder. "Oh, okay. We have several more schoolmates in this department, you know?"

He rolled his eyes, "Figures. It was bound to happen. Whose faces will I still have to see around here?"

She furrowed her brows before she started counting them off of one hand. "Well! There's Feliks, there's, well, of course, _me_ , there's Elizaveta, there's Michelle— she was the transfer student we got last year, from Seychelles,"

"Oh yeah, I remember her."

"And…" she beamed at him sheepishly.

He raised an eyebrow at her, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "And?"

"…And Francis Bonnefoy may or may not be taking up acting here—"

"What?! That sleazy fuckface is studying _here_?!" Lovino exclaimed, catching the attention (and glares) of some of the people that surrounded them.

Bella shushed him, motioning downwards with her hands. "Lovi, keep it down!" She giggled. "Unfortunately, yes, he is."

Lovino groaned in protest.

* * *

By the time Lovino had pulled away from the ever-loquacious blond, he had ten minutes before his first class started. It was Introduction to Creative Writing, which would carry on from 9 AM to 12 PM.

In his last-minute desperation, he found himself running clear across campus, often bumping into numerous passersby in his haste.

Just as the class was about to begin, he found himself skidding to a halt before his designated classroom. Inadvertently, he'd slammed the door open so hard, it bounced off the wall and nearly closed on him.

Lovino's face flushed in embarrassment and shame. _Shit._

Before him were his future block mates, all silently seated and staring at him expectantly.

The professor was poised before the whiteboard, a Pilot marker in her hand positioned inches before the board's surface.

"Shit." He hissed under his breath.

The professor gave him an amiable smile and pointed towards the seats. "Take a seat. You came right on time."

He gave a terse nod before stomping in the classroom and taking a seat in the back of the class in a row no one else occupied.

She then turned to face the class, "Once again~! Good morning, everyone. Welcome to the Introduction to Creative Writing." As she did this, she moved a fraction to scribble her name on the board. "My name is Professor Jacqueline Sharp. Of course, I will help guide you through your journey as a writer. I will be your mentor in regards to the creative process of writing literature. If you cannot handle constructive criticism, I fear that this is _not_ the class for you."

A tense silence filled the room.

Upon receiving no negative reactions, Professor Sharp set the marker down on her desk and folded her arms over her chest. "Right. Albeit the fact that I will be the one to guide you all, do not expect me to make you the next Fitzgerald or Shakespeare." She determinedly pointed at the students before her. "You will have to do that for yourselves. In this class, you will learn how to determine your strengths and weaknesses as a writer. You will all grow as writers as you discover your forte. And if you believe that you have already discovered your forte, I will help you hone it."

She clapped her hands together. "Alright! Everyone, grab a piece of paper. Write a quick introduction about yourself. I'll allot you fifteen minutes. I'm sure that'll be enough."

Almost immediately, the sound of paper rustling around could be heard throughout the room. Lovino, who had just finished catching his breath, pulled his notepad out.

He brought his pen up to the paper and furrowed his brows.

_How the fuck do I start?_

He was at a loss for what to write.

Dammit. First class in for his future major, and he already had writer's block. How the fuck would he be able to make it in the coming years?!

_Fuck my life._

He tapped the end of his pen on the notepad. On a metronome, the tempo of the tapping would have been 260 beats per minute. But he wasn't a musician. He was a writer. He was supposed to write.

He's supposed to be writing, _right fucking now_.

But what the fuck is he even doing again?

Oh, yeah. _Not writing_.

An aggravated sigh escapes his lips.

"You okay there?" A voice asks, bringing him out of his thoughts. He gasps in surprise, seeing his professor right beside him. He glances up at her. She's in her late 20's or early 30's, give or take. She has long brown hair tied into a neat ponytail and she has grey eyes. Grey eyes that are looking at him quizzically at the moment.

"Yeah, yeah," he answers automatically. Then he notices his anxious pen-tapping and he stops. "I'm perfectly fine."

Her eyes soften. "You shouldn't stress too much about it. It's just an introductory essay. Half an essay, even. Easy-peasy."

He gulps, hazel eyes glancing back down at his empty page. There are ugly marks on the paper the end of his pen had made from all that tapping. "I know."

_But that's the thing,_ he thinks. _I don't know what to say._

That's when he began to panic. As far as he knew, writing has been the only thing he has ever been good at. What if, after all this time, his only talent was apparently a hoax?

What if he was wrong about his talents?

What if he wasn't a good writer after all?

Wh-What if—

"Hey, you okay? You look like you're about to go into cardiac arrest." Professor Sharp had bluntly stated, though there was a trace of humour intended in her words.

He tersely nodded.

She looked at him warily for a second or two more. "Alrighty then. Just come see me if you have any questions, okay?"

Another nod.

With that, she finally walked away and minded another side of the room.

Eventually, Lovino could breathe again. But it didn't make him feel any better.

At a loss for what to write, he decided to go with the standard introductory essay everyone and their mother have written at least _once_ in their lives before.

Yet at the same time, he didn't want that.

He wanted to write something that'd showcase his proficiency in writing, d-dammit…

He absolutely hated that he was being indecisive as fuck.

Lovino couldn't make up his mind. It's _just_ a fucking _introductory essay_ , dammit, get a fucking hold of yourself!

He ran a hand through his hair, nails raking against his scalp. _Why do I feel like this?_

The Italian took a quick glance around the room. Everyone else were either occupied with their essay or getting to know each other. The room suddenly felt much smaller and he felt so alone.

It was a room full of people, and yet, he knew no one. He would befriend no one. He knew he wouldn't.

And even before college started, he was aware of it. He accepted it entirely. Yet why did it make him feel so terrible right now?

He didn't know what to write, _Dio mio_. How many minutes had passed? His eyes flickered up to the clock above the whiteboard. He just wasted five minutes. Fuck.

Temporarily shaking off all his indecisive thoughts out of his head, he immediately wrote the typical 'This Is Me' essay.

Basic stuff. Shit nobody really cares about. Outside details, because _Dio_ knows no one would ever want to know what goes on inside his head.

He finished it within ten minutes.

* * *

Since it was the first class for that subject, everyone had an early out. They, however, had homework to bring with them already.

" _Go somewhere,"_ Professor Sharp had said, _"Go anywhere and just write. Write about what is surrounding you, be it the people or the place itself."_

" _That's it?"_ Most of the people in class had asked, incredulous.

There was a gleam in her eyes as she affirmed it.

After class had ended, Lovino shuffled towards the general direction of the comfort rooms. The place stank like shit, but it was empty and it was quiet. Exactly what Lovino needed at the moment. He cupped his hands under the icy cold sink water before bringing it to his face.

_Dio mio_ , the water wasn't just _cold_. It was _fucking arctic_.

He shivered, becoming more awake. He placed his unusually pallid hands on the rim of the sink, slowly staring up at his reflection. And, truth be told, he was startled by what he saw. When the fuck was the last time he took a long glance at himself in the mirror?

What the hell, were those actually _eyebags_? Did he really look that tired?

Physical faults aside, he had this train of thought nagging him in the inside.

Truth be told, he knew why he was so startled in the first place. It had come as a realisation to why he had such a difficult time writing that goddamn essay in the first place.

It's because when he looked in the mirror, albeit the fact that, _yes_ , he saw himself, _duh_ … he didn't know who he was inside anymore. Mirrors are not supposed to help you see who you are inside, but your eyes are. Because eyes are like windows to the soul, or some shit, right?

' _When you look in the mirror, what do you see?'_

_I see someone with brown hair. He has a really annoyingly bouncy hair curl that annoys him to no end. He's got hazel eyes, and an ever-present scowl on his face. He looks constipated or like he ate something past its expiry date. Even though his skin is usually lightly tanned, he looks pale and sickly as fuck right now. This fucker seriously needs some goddamn sunlight so he could tan like a golden Italian sex god. Yeah. Or a tanning bed. Actually, fuck tanning beds. That shit's cancerous. But whatever._

_This is Lovino Vargas._

' _Who is Lovino Vargas?'_

Ah… this was what stumped him in the first place.

_Lovino Vargas… is the brother of Feliciano Vargas. Lovino is taking a course in Creative Writing under the Department of Performing Arts in Evergreen Hollows University. He is a freshman. He comes from Italy. He loves tomatoes and Italian cuisine. He wants to become a famous writer someday._

…Stop. Rewrite.

_Lovino Vargas, brother of Feliciano Vargas, is a freshman taking a course in Creative Writing under the Department of Performing Arts in Evergreen Hollows University. He is an Italian who loves tomatoes and Italian cuisine, and he wants to become a famous writer someday._

Outside details. Details that were already so obvious.

It was all so shallow, so very shallow.

There was no depth to his self-perception.

Lovino hated it. _Abhorred_ it, even.

He didn't know what else to say because he didn't know who he was inside anymore.

**Lovino Vargas is nobody _._** He'd scribbled down on his notepad earlier, taking one long look at it before erasing its existence with correction tape.

If only correcting past mistakes and shortcomings were that easy, _si_?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> buon giorno - good morning (It.)  
> fratello - brother (It.)  
> idiota - idiot (It.)  
> Dio - God (It.)  
> Dio mio - oh my God (It.)  
> si - yes (It.)


	5. five

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List  
_ ** **five**

" ** _Punk bitch walking tall like you've got something to prove.  
Nah man, 'cause deep down you know it sucks to be you._ "  
**— **_Stingray Affliction_ by ISSUES**

_Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzz—_

" _Pronto_ ," Lovino grit out, voice croaky and laced with sleep.

" _Ve~_ Fratello _, where are you? You haven't been answering my texts!"_ Feliciano asked, worry evident in his tone.

The older Vargas brother groaned, shifting around on his bed. "I'm back at home, _idiota_. I was taking a nap."

"… _Oh. Have you eaten yet, Lovi? I'm at the diner right now."_

There was a brief silence as Lovino tried to collect his thoughts. Finally, he responded, "Yeah, and?"

He heard Feliciano sigh through the line, _"Do you want to have lunch with me,_ fratello _?"_

More silence. Lovino slowly sat up. "No. I'm good. I'll just make myself something at home."

He could practically hear Feliciano pouting. Dammit.

" _Ve~ But Lovi~"_

An aggravated sigh escaped the older twin's lips. "What, dammit?"

" _Trust me~! It'll be fun to hang out with other people! My friends aren't as terrible as you think they are…"_

"For fuck's sake, Feli—"

" _Ve~ Please,_ fratello _? Pretty please with cherries and pasta on top?"_

Lovino's face scrunched up in disgust. "The fuck? 'Cherries and pasta'?"

"Si _~!"_

"That's disgusting, Feliciano."

" _Stop changing the subject, Lovi~ Please come? Pwease, ve~"_

A frustrated, strangled noise escaped the older Italian's lips. " _Fine_! I'll be there in a few, dammit—"

" _Yay~! I'm so happy! You won't regret it, Lovi, I'll see you soon~! Bye~"_

_Click._

Almost immediately, Lovino flopped back down onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling in regret.

_What the fuck have I done?_

* * *

Feliciano slipped his phone into his pocket, smiling to himself.

"Was that your brother, Feliciano-kun?" Kiku asked from the seat beside him. There were so many in their group, they had to combine two tables together. The latter beamed.

"Ve~ It is~! I sure hope he'll come after all."

"I haven't seen Lovino-san all summer. How has he been?"

The Italian pouted, "Hmm… I've been kind of really worried for Lovi lately. He just seems so lonely nowadays."

Kiku nodded at this. "I see what you mean. But perhaps it has only been now that you've noticed."

"Ve~ Noticed what?"

"Er… Lovino-san's loneliness."

Before Feliciano could even think twice about it, the bell above the entrance to the diner chimed, signalling the entrance of new customers. In walked the Bad Touch Trio, who took the four-seater booth near him. Antonio called out to him. "Hey! Feli!"

Feliciano turned to face the Spaniard, beaming back. The confrontation with _fratello_ and Antonio yesterday made him feel somewhat sheepish, yet the brunette didn't seem very fazed about getting chased by Lovi. "Hi, Toni!"

Why did he have the distinct feeling that Antonio was going to be more persistent than the others?

* * *

Lovino glanced at his reflection in the full-length mirror by the hallway, hazel eyes censorious. He daren't look up close lest he have another fucking epiphany. Fuck epiphanies. They weren't even the good kind, the ones that changed your entire life for the better.

It was only a fucking realisation of how fucking _pathetic_ his life actually is.

And that, in itself, was something Lovino was already fully aware of— and he has been, for a while now.

A sigh escaped his lips. Did he really have to go? To the diner? What the hell would he even eat there?

He knew he'd have to make his presence known there, because Feliciano would _definitely_ hound him nonstop the moment they were both at home. Why the fuck did Feliciano have to go to the diner anyway? The diner was farther away from campus than their apartment was. So that's… pretty fucking stupid.

W-Well, not unless you were too lazy to cook or anything, d-dammit…

A sigh escaped his lips as he returned to his bedroom to retrieve his backpack. As he did so, his eyes fell on the Bucket List and he wondered when the hell he'd finally get started on the damn thing. Some people were lucky. They had opportunities presented to them at every corner and every turn, and their futures were boundless— limitless. Everyday, they could wake up with a smile on their face and conquer the challenges life presented them. These people are strong. Confident. Motivated. Inspirational.

Like Feliciano.

Everywhere he goes, it's like a path of gayness and rainbows follow his feathery-light and dainty footsteps as he frolics yonder over valleys and valleys of… of fucking carnations and daisies or something like that. Metaphorically, whereas Feliciano was a unicorn-slash-pegasus lovechild with a long shiny mane that put the colour spectrum to shame— the type of magical horse that shit rainbows and puked Skittles— Lovino was a fucking potato-brown Shetland pony. _Dio_ , he absolutely _abhorred_ the fuck out of potatoes, so in a way, it was like saying he hated himself.

It was and is a cruel comparison, but somewhat true nonetheless.

People like _him_ — like Lovino… They were the kinds of people that woke up in the morning and wondered why they were even alive in the first place. Why they even bothered to continue living when everything has become so cruelly routine— it wasn't even a nice type of routine in the first place, d-dammit…

It was boring and monotonous as fuck, and he hated the fact that he wasn't good enough to have a future as bright as Feliciano's as well.

Was he _jealous_ of his younger brother?

Oh, yes. God, yes. Who wouldn't be?

But he would never admit that to anyone else.

A-Anyways, Feliciano still needed him, so Lovino just needed to bullshit through life for just a little bit longer. Bullshit indeed.

Lovino broke away from his quasi-depressing thoughts and grabbed his notebook, stuffing it inside his backpack. He hated how he had huge vacant periods, but his schedule was restrictive enough to ensure he couldn't do much either, like go to the mall or something.

Then again, he had neither want nor incentive to go to their town's shitty mall anyway, so fuck that.

He had class later at three PM 'til five PM. General Sociology.

The brunette took a glance at his watch. He had quite a while before his class started, so he'd decided to make up for his shortcomings earlier in the Introduction to Creative Writing and work on his homework somewhere after having lunch with Feliciano.

With that, he finally walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

* * *

"Say, Feli, would you like to go on a date with me sometime?" Antonio asks, wedging a seat between Feliciano and Ludwig, his emerald eyes sparkling with determination.

"It might upset _mio fratello_ Lovi, though," Feliciano says, pouting at him. He didn't want to lose Toni as a friend by outright rejecting him, but he didn't want to make Lovino angry either— especially when he's been so stressed lately!

_Ve~ Who am I kidding? It_ will _upset Lovi either way._ Dio mi salvi _._

He inwardly sighed. _Fratello_ was right. He _was_ incapable of saying 'no'. If only he could call on the power of _fratello's Virginity Guardian Armour_ and don the metaphorical armour himself.

Antonio drew back, pouting as well. "Oh, yeah. Lovino. He's your older brother, _si_?"

Feliciano laughed airily. " _Si_ , he is~!"

"…Are you sure you two are related?" the Spaniard asks, his expression grave and serious.

The smaller brunette nodded. "Yep, we sure are~!"

Toni's eyes widened in disbelief. "Really? When Gil and Franny told me stuff about him, I couldn't believe it either~!"

"Lovi isn't very fond of big brother Francis and Gil, so…"

Antonio chuckled at that. "You call him 'Lovi', huh? That's cute~"

"Ve~ _Grazie_!"

"You know what'd be even cuter?" Toni asks, turning the charm up a notch. He leant in a fraction, smiling charmingly at Feliciano. "If you went out on a date with me."

The bell chimed, as if on cue, and in walked _fratello_.

"Do you like pasta? If you want, I can make pasta for you and we can have a picnic at the park—"

_Smack!_

Lovino drew his hand back, shaking it after he'd smacked Antonio on the back of the head. _Dio_ , his hand stings like a motherfucker right now. "Eugh. What the fuck do you think you're doing, _bastardo_?"

"Hey, there's no need to be such a dick, Lovino." Gilbert drawled, crimson eyes gleaming in irritation as they narrowed at the older Italian who had come to rain on their parade.

"Not when _this_ asshole is trying to hit on _mio fratello_." Lovino bit back, sneering.

"Hey, why do you have to be so mean?" Toni's voice piped up, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Shut the fuck up," Lovino answered almost automatically, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gilbert leant forward, "Just because _you_ don't have a life doesn't mean you have the right to ruin Feliciano's. What the fuck is your problem anyway?"

Lovino looked at the Bad Touch Trio sourly. "Unfortunately, my problem is you."

"Come, now, Lovino. Who are you to talk?" It was Francis who spoke this time, peering up at the Italian from venti cup of Starbucks he'd brought in with him. "Antoine here did nothing to you, and still, you have the audacity to insult someone you don't even know."

Feliciano watched in silent horror as Lovino put on a façade of collectedness, smirking at the Frenchman. "Well, aren't we all hypocrites here?"

"Why don't you just do us all a favour?" Gilbert asks, standing up to his full height. "Fuck off. No one wants you here."

Immediately, the smirk melted away into Lovino's oft-worn scowl. Feliciano wanted to stand up, to stop them, but he found himself rooted to his seat, unable to blink; unable to move.

Big brother Toni had stood up, trying to break up the fight.

The entire diner had gone silent now, with all the patrons spectating what was to come attentively.

Instead of breaking up the fight, Antonio was inadvertently dragged into it. He was trying to get Gilbert to stop, trying to explain his intentions to Lovino, but all of it fell on deaf ears. Lovino reached up to grab the collar of Antonio's shirt, only to have Ludwig stand up and intervene.

"Who the fuck are _you_?" Feliciano vaguely hears Lovino demand of the blond. His voice is muffled, like Feliciano is underwater. The owner of the diner is here now, trying to keep hell from breaking loose in his restaurant.

_Why can't I move?_

He flinches as Lovino shoves Antonio back and says something to the owner before storming out of the diner. All falls silent before Feliciano finally stands up, his chair toppling over in haste.

Lovi.

He needs to find Lovi.

He barely spares the Bad Touch Trio a betrayed glance before hurrying out of the diner and looking both ways of the street. Barely ten seconds have passed since the older Vargas had left the diner, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Before Feli's mind even registers it, he's running down one path which leads to the intersection. Lovino isn't anywhere in sight. In his state of panic, tears have run down his cheeks, leaving him gasping for air.

Feliciano flinches as someone wraps their arm around him.

"Feli," it was Toni who spoke, whose voice did nothing to calm his frazzled nerves. "Are you okay?"

Toni leans in and wipes the tears away, trying to shush him. Feliciano glances to the side and he sees Gilbert and big brother Francis making their way over.

" _M-Mio fratello_ , I need to find _mio fratello_ ," Feli gasps out, trying to move Toni's hands out of the way. He storms over to Gilbert and meets him halfway with a glare. "How could you do that to him?!"

The albino was stunned at the outburst. Just as he was about to respond, the Italian cut him off. "Do you know how hard it is just getting him to talk to other people?! _Dio_ , Gilbert, I wanted him to make friends! He's a-always been alone, but I didn't want him to be so lonely anymore—"

Feliciano chokes on his sobs. Kiku and Ludwig have followed. The sobbing Italian makes his way to the two of them and wraps his arms around Ludwig's torso, weeping into his chest. The younger Beilschmidt is taken aback, at a loss for what to do, until Kiku starts patting Feliciano's back in a soothing manner.

* * *

_Ding!_

In his haste, Lovino had ducked in one of the stores, just wanting to get away from everybody. Everything. He had a hunch that Feliciano would try and follow him, so he decided to give his _fratello_ the slip. He didn't mean anything by it, but he just— he just wanted to be alone right now.

His mind barely registers the customers quizzically glancing at him, or the slightly skeptical store owner, let alone what type of store it actually was. His head is spinning.

Lovino shakes his head and glances up at the people in the store. Automatically, they glance down, feigning ignorance. The brunette held back a scoff.

Tools. There were tools everywhere.

And not just in a metaphorical sense either.

This was a hardware store.

The Italian slowly made his way down the leftmost aisle, hazel eyes absently inspecting the goods as the unwanted thoughts began to fill his head again.

' ** _Fuck off. No one wants you here.'_**

_Fuck you, Gilbert. Go choke on a hundred cocks, you piece of shit._

' ** _Just because_ you _don't have a life doesn't mean you have the right to ruin Feliciano's.'_**

_Vainglorious cunts like you are practically the reason why lives are ruined, anyway._

' ** _No one wants you here.'_**

_Common knowledge._

' ** _No one—'_**

_I—_

' ** _wants—'_**

— _already—_

' ** _you here.'_**

— _know!_

He gulps, trying to suppress the lump forming in his throat. Did they seriously think he didn't— _couldn't_ see how everyone was staring at him like he had _two_ fucking heads? Did they really think of him that ignorant?

A shaky breath escapes his lips.

He wasn't blind.

Everyone hates him. He knows that already.

So why point out the fucking obvious, right?

…E-Even Feliciano didn't want him there, d-dammit…

_Fratello_ was silent, so silent.

He was probably ashamed of having such a brother in the first place, with him c-causing such a scene like that…

_D-Dio… Of fucking_ course _I know everyone would be better off without me, anyway._

Hazel eyes slowly glanced up, finally taking in its surroundings. Before him, he found ropes and cords of all kinds.

A bitter smirk tugged at his lips. Was this a sign?

He reached up for a length of brown rope made out of twine and wondered how difficult it'd be to make a noose out of it. The brunette experimentally tries bending the rope, as if making a knot in itself.

…It shouldn't be too hard.

This thing would support his weight, right?

He pulled at it, feeling its texture. This thing would wring his neck like a motherfucker, but it wouldn't matter because in a matter of minutes, he'd already be dead.

He took a glance at the price. _Jeez, how long_ is _this thing?_

He decided that ten metres worth of rope was a bit too much.

Lovino leant down a fraction, trying to find the same type of rope but with shorter length. Shortest he could find was five metres long.

Good enough.

He pulled a coil of rope out of the hook and made his way to the back of the store, where the cashier register was. He set it down on the counter, averting the cashier's gaze. He was probably in his late forties. He wore a jumpsuit with the name tag 'Stan' embroidered on it. Stan reeked of sweat and beer.

Stan leant back from his newspaper and folded it away. He had a beer gut. Fucking disgusting.

"What're you going to do with this rope, kid?"

_What're you going to do with your beer gut, Stan?_

"Tch," Lovino scoffed. "Nothing you need to know. Just ring it up."

Stan smirked this little smirk— the type that made Lovino want to throttle someone in his mentally disoriented state. "Heh. Sure, kid."

He really wanted to punch this guy in the face right now.

Several aggravating minutes later (he had to watch the lard ass try and reach for the stack of paper bags in front of him with much difficulty) he finally had his purchase stuffed in his backpack for later perusal.

He'd have to Google 'how to make a noose' later.

He exited the hardware store and made his way to the park, where he worked on his homework for Introduction to Creative Writing.

* * *

Feliciano was beginning to feel a bit fidgety.

It was nearing six PM and still, his brother was nowhere to be seen.

_Where is he?_

He leant against the island counter, staring at the dinner he'd prepared and laid across the dining table. He had cooked seafood marinara pasta and baked garlic bread to go along with it.

"Don't worry, Feliciano-kun. I'm sure your brother will get home soon." Kiku piped up from the general direction of the living room, staring at his friend with concern.

"V-Ve~ If you say so, Kiku…"

An hour earlier, Ludwig had still been here, whilst Feliciano was busying himself with cooking.

An hour later, Kiku left.

Feliciano was by his own lonesome now.

He hated the silence. It was unnerving.

_Is this… is this what_ fratello _feels like whenever he's alone at night?_ He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to rub the cold away. _Ve~ I don't like it._

_Clack._

Feliciano's heart skipped a beat as he ran towards the front door. "Lovi!" He launched himself into the older twin's arms, "Lovi, I missed you so much! Where were you?!"

Lovino glanced at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. "The fuck? I had sociology class. Then I just—" An aggravated sigh escaped his lips. "I just went for a walk. I guess I lost track of time. _Mi dispiace_."

He pried Feliciano's arms off him.

"V-Ve~ About what happened earlier, _fratello_ —"

"It's not your fault."

"But it _is_! I couldn't do anything, I couldn't stop them from saying bad things to you!" The younger Vargas was crying now.

Lovino sighed, wrapping his arms around his younger brother's body. "Calm the fuck down, Feliciano. This shit isn't new to me. I can handle it."

Muffled sobbing.

"…What?"

Feli pulled away, reiterating what he'd just said. "B-But I don't want you to handle it! Not on your own! What Gilbert said hurt me too, _fratello_!"

"Don't be," Lovino coaxes, rolling his eyes. "That idiot adores the shit out of you."

The other sniffled, pouting. "I'm mad at him right now."

"Tch, don't worry. I am too." The two hugged it out.

Finally, Feliciano was the first one to pull away, laughing albeit the tears still running down his reddened cheeks. "Ve~ _Ti amo_ , _fratello_ ,"

The response is automatic, but it makes Lovino happy inside. " _Ti amo troppo_. C'mon, let's go eat before the food goes cold already, _si_?"

Feliciano nods, completely and blissfully unaware of the clumsily-made noose in Lovino's backpack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> pronto - ready/hurry (It.)   
> fratello - brother (It.)  
>  idiota - idiot (It.)  
>  Dio - God (It.)  
>  mio fratello - my brother (It.)   
> Dio mi salvi - God save me (It.)  
>  si - yes (It./Esp.)  
>  grazie - thank you (It.)   
> bastardo - bastard (It.)   
> mi dispiace - I'm sorry (It.)   
> ti amo - I love you (It.)   
> ti amo troppo - I love you too (It.)


	6. six

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List  
_ ** **six**

**" _I'm going blind, but one thing's clear,  
Death is the only salvation for me._ "  
**— ****_The House of Wolves_ by Bring Me The Horizon

That night, Lovino shoved the sloppily crafted noose underneath his bed, hidden in one of his Nike shoeboxes. He'd made it after his Sociology class was over. Like he told Feliciano, he took a walk. A long one, along the outskirts of the wood.

He found more inspiration in the wood than in the park, truth be told, so he scrapped his previous work and worked on it again. After a while, though, he had stopped to take a break. He decided to pull his phone out and search for tutorials on making a hangman's noose. I-It was getting dark, so the knot ended up being pretty shitty. But still, it felt somewhat _comforting_ in a way to have that noose in his backpack, like the safety one would feel having a rosary in their pocket.

Sure, it was sick and twisted as fuck. But for _once_ , he felt like he had control over _something_ in his life.

It was like he found comfort in the promise of death. After all, it _was_ inevitable. The only thing in this world anyone could ever be certain of. And everyone, despite rank, reputation, race, monetary possessions or beliefs, would eventually succumb to it.

_In the end, it only proves that push comes to shove, we're only humans._

* * *

…Lovino wasn't exactly sure what the fuck happened, but it sure as hell _seemed_ like he had fallen into a routine. It's been several days now of the same thing.

_Every_ day, Feliciano would wake up during the ass crack of dawn, belting out tunes from Billboard Hot 100 and concocting a myriad of colourful breakfast foods. _Every_ day, he would dance and prance around the room, trying to get Lovino to d- _dance_ with him ( _what the actual fuck?_ ) or at least _sing_ with him.

Hahahaha, no.

_Hell, no._

**_Over my dead, sexy Italian body, no._ **

_Ahem._

B-Besides, Lovino had no time for shit like that, d-dammit…

His day, however, would never fail to worsen the moment he stepped out of the apartment building. _Dio_ , it was the _absolute fucking worst_.

Remember the Spanish bastard that tried to corrupt Feliciano's purity? The one who was _partially_ immune to Lovino's _Virginity Guardian Armour_?

Yeah, he would be there.

In front of the goddamn building.

_Every fucking morning._

Doing _what_ , you ask?

Cheh, the _stronzo_ would just fucking _loom_ there outside like some goddamn _stalker_ with bouquet upon bouquet of roses dedicated to his ' _precious Feliciano_ '. P-Perverted creep…

To Lovino, it was reminiscent of the music video for Mariah Carey's song 'Obsessed'.

The only thing it lacked now was a bus to ram into the Spaniard and launch him across town.

' _Where's Feliciano?'_ the little shit would ask the _moment_ Lovino exited the apartment building. _Every_ fucking time.

A-And Lovino was fed up with it, dammit!

"You know, I'm pretty sure this is trespassing of private property, asshole." Lovino sneered, exiting the building a Monday morning.

Then the _bastardo_ would just give him this irritatingly ignorant smile, "Ahaha~ This is an apartment block~ I'm not trespassing anyone's home, Lovino~."

Lovino's face flushed red in frustration. _Che palle!_ "Yeah? Well I can report you to the goddamn police for _stalking my brother_ , you creepy Spanish bastard!"

And as if on cue, Feliciano would skip out of the building. Lovino always, _always_ has to intercept the Spanish bastard's hugs— with his motherfucking _foot_ — before he has the chance to glomp (and further corrupt) his innocent _fratello_.

The bastard just _wouldn't give up_. And i-it's bad enough that Lovino couldn't get the bastard to leave him and his _fratello_ alone, no, the fucker _lingered_.

It was annoying as fuck.

The absolute _best_ Lovino could do was to stay in between Feliciano and Antonio as they c-conversed, like some kind of fucking cockblock barrier o-or something…

Fuck.

He seriously needed to get his shit straightened out, ASAP.

There were many things Lovino didn't want to be, and being a 'cockblock barrier' was _definitely_ one of them.

A-And _every_ day, he would be _so livid_ by the time his first class came around, he couldn't even fucking _function_ properly. Learning and processing new lessons isn't exactly a walk in the goddamn park when you feel like ripping a certain _Spaniard's_ throat out.

_Dio mio_ , whenever he _happened_ to have the same classes as the bastard (Antonio's an irregular student in his math and philosophy classes), he would _try_ to resist the undeniable urge to fucking _defenestrate_ him, but just barely. _Just. Barely._

He could tell, though, that the Spaniard wasn't too happy about his being around either, always asking Feliciano if they could just t-talk in _private_. So when he and Lovino had classes together, it was like Antonio was trying to annoy him with stupid questions and remarks on purpose as some kind of _payback_. He saw that gleam of irritation and mischievousness in his emerald green eyes, and it was painfully obvious that the smile on his face was fake. It was almost _taunting_ , even. Truth is, he was no different than that self-proclaimed Prussian dickhead, Gilbert, or that perverted French fuckface, Francis. After all, birds of the same feather flock together, right?

Lovino wasn't sure exactly how long he could take being around the idiot anymore before he finally committed a felony.

But _Dio_ , it would feel _so fucking good_.

He snapped out of his tantalisingly illegal thoughts. It's funny how imaginative the human mind can be with the right kind of _pissed_. Funny, but at the same time, somewhat scary and unnerving. How perturbing would it be to realise that you have the inner workings of a psychopathic serial killer?

Feliciano and that bastard were still talking animatedly. Lovino rolled his eyes, taking a glance at his watch. He had the same math class as that Spanish bastard, but it didn't seem like he would be leaving Feliciano alone anytime soon.

…Asshole.

He felt conflicted.

Either he leaves them be and _not_ be late for class, or he _looms_ there until the idiot finally leaves his _fratello_ alone.

_Dio_ , that's a tough one.

But the Vargas didn't want to be marked as 'late' so early in the academic year because some Spanish fucker thinks he has the so-called ' _suaveness_ ' to get into his _fratello's_ pants. That is _never_ going to happen.

**Ever.**

"I'm going now," Lovino murmured to his brother, rolling his eyes.

Immediately, Feliciano directed his attention to his _fratellone_ and gave him a quick hug. "Ve~ I'll see you later, Lovi~!"

Lovino's face reddened, trying to pry Feli's arms off him "W-What the fuck? Don't just h-hug me like that in _public_ , dammit!"

"Aww, that's so cute~!" Antonio suddenly gushed, starry-eyed at the display.

"Ugh, stop staring, you perverted fuck!" Lovino spat out, voice absolutely dripping with rancour.

The smile on the Spanish bastard's face faltered by a fraction. The older Vargas inwardly smirked.

"Ahaha~ Right. _Lo siento_ , Lovino." Antonio laughed, but it was obvious that his laugh was fake. He glanced down at his watch then looked up at Lovino, eyes slightly more serious, more dark. Like a hidden gleam of murderous intent.

Looks like Lovino wasn't the only one with closeted psychopathic serial killer tendencies around here.

The Italian let the smirk slowly creep upon his face in a mocking manner.

Feliciano ignored the promise of future bodily harm exchanged between the two and clutched the bouquet of roses Toni had given him to his chest. "Ve~ Thanks for the roses again, Toni~!"

As if a switch had flipped, Toni turned to Feli with an oh-so genuine grin on his face. "Ah, it's no problem, Feli~! Anything for someone as cute as you~"

"But you really don't have to, Toni~ Our apartment is filled with roses now~!"

"Oh? Then if you want, I can give you chocolates instead~"

"This is disgusting." Lovino inadvertently blurted out, abruptly turning around and walking away. "I don't have time for this. I'm leaving."

"Ah, I better head to class," Antonio concurred, pointing at his watch. "I don't want to be late~!"

Feliciano nodded in understanding. "Bye Toni~! By _fratello_ ~! I'll text you during lunch, Lovi~!"

The older Vargas didn't bother looking back. "Yeah, whatever."

"If you want, you can text _me_ during lunch~!" Antonio had the audacity to say.

Sleazy bastard.

"V-Ve~ You two better get to class now~!" Feliciano exclaimed, waving at them goodbye. Little did the other two know he was internally panicking. _What if_ fratello _starts chasing Toni again?!_

"Ah, _si_ , _si_! I'll talk to you soon, Feliciano~!"

_Ve~_ Grazie a _Dio~ He didn't acknowledge it! Crisis averted~!_

" _Ciao_ ~!"

And Antonio finally turned around, following the other Italian to their class. He sped up a bit more, grabbing Lovino's forearm.

Lovino whipped around to face him, fist clenched and poised to punch. "What the fuck do you want?!"

" _What_ is your _problem_ , Lovino?" Antonio demanded, eyes narrowed. " _I'm_ just trying to be the nice guy here, but you aren't even _trying_ to be nice to me."

"Bullshit. What do you even _mean_ by 'nice guy'? You think you're nice because you're trying to screw my brother? And why the fuck should I even ' _try_ ' to be nice to a fake bastard like you? At least I call it how I see it, and all I see right now is a fucking _asshole_." Lovino jerked his arm away, casting a sneer at the Spaniard. He continued walking.

"Oh, and _you're_ the one to talk! Ahahaha~" Antonio 'laughs' in response, hot on the other's heels.

The Italian scoffs at him, "Yeah, I am, because it takes one to know one. At least I can find it in myself to admit it."

A pregnant silence falls over them before Antonio is the one to break it.

"God, why can't you be more like Feliciano?"

Lovino's stomach lurches. He stops dead in his tracks, leaving the Spaniard to bump into him.

"H-Hey, what was that for—"

"I ask myself the same thing all the fucking time," the Italian responds, tone bitter with contempt. "I'm going to say this once, and I'm going to say this slowly." He turns to face the Spaniard, toe-to-toe as he glared up at those emerald eyes.

And for the first time, Antonio was taken aback with the intensity of hazel. His heart had skipped a beat before it started to thrumagainst his chest. _D-Dios mio…_

"You don't _know_ me. You never _will_. Got it?" The Italian before him seethed, and, as promised, each word was pronounced slowly as it sunk into the Spaniard's conscience.

The latter's breathing intensified as he gave the other a curt nod.

T-Then Lovino turned around and walked into their classroom.

Antonio was just left standing there, feeling overwhelmed in a way. With what, he didn't know.

…Yet.

He stood there for a while before he finally entered the room.

"Fernández-Carriedo, you're late." His math professor drawls, prompting a handful of people to chuckle.

"Ah, _lo siento_ , _Señor_ Robertson." Toni apologised, grinning sheepishly at him.

"Just take a seat, Mr. Fernández-Carriedo." Mr. Robertson says, writing out a couple of equations on the board.

"Ah, _si_! _Gracias_ , sir," And with that, Antonio made his way up to his seat in the back of the room.

Beside Lovino.

_Dios_ , the tension between them was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. He could feel it from all the way across the room, even!

Slowly, he took his seat beside the Italian, who did not acknowledge his presence. Instead, the latter was busy scribbling something down in his notebook, some words barely intelligible as they danced across the page, line by line, word by word.

Antonio didn't know why, but Lovino was always engrossed in his notebook. He always wrote.

About what, he had no idea.

He had a hunch it contained innumerable expletives though. The older twin just seemed so _angry_ and unapproachable all the time. Actually, scratch that— he _is_ angry and unapproachable all the time.

But why?

* * *

 

Lovino was pissed.

W-Well… _more_ pissed than usual, anyway, d-dammit…

But, no, seriously. Who the fuck does that Spanish bastard _think_ he is, comparing him to Feliciano like that? If there was one thing he hated more than himself, it was being reminded of what he already knew. E-Even though Lovino's gotten used to the comparisons already, that didn't mean they didn't affect him anymore. So, yeah, it still _did_. It sure as hell did.

And you know what?

It fucking _hurts_.

It hurts a _lot_ (N-Not that he'd admit it to anyone else, anyway, d-dammit).

Like, _yeah_ , thanks for fucking _rubbing it in his face_ about how much _better_ his brother is. It's like rubbing salt into his wounds, kicking him when he's already down. And he, for the sake of himself, could not find a way to get back up on his feet again.

In all honesty, he didn't want to. Not anymore.

After being brought down time and time again by the people around him, he'd given up a long time ago trying to pick up the pieces. Because since nothing would ever get better for him, why even bother trying, right?

Because no matter all the bullshit you go through in life, it all ends the same, right? So why not just _give up_?

_Nothing's_ going to change— at least, for the better— so why even try at all?

The duration of the class, he had to suppress this lump of feels forming in the back of his throat, feeling an onslaught of tears sting the back of his eyes. He felt like a wuss because of it, but he wouldn't let anyone see him cry, and they never will.

He won't give them that satisfaction.

Plus, why should that Spanish bastard's opinion matter to him anyway? He's no different than the rest of them.

Right?

As the class came to an end, he felt the Spaniard's eyes lingering on him for a few seconds. Just as Lovino was to meet his gaze with a pointed glare, a retort readied on the tip of his tongue, Antonio had grabbed his bag in haste and left.

Lovino's eyes narrowed, trained on Antonio's quickly retreating form.

_Fucking weirdo._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Dio - God (It.)   
> stronzo - asshole (It.)   
> bastardo - bastard (It.)   
> Che palle - what a pain in the ass (It.)  
>  fratello - brother (It.)  
>  Dio mio - oh my God (It.)  
>  fratellone - older brother (It.)  
>  lo siento - sorry (Esp.)   
> si - yes (Esp.)   
> grazie a Dio - thank God (It.)   
> ciao - hello/goodbye (It.)   
> Dios mio - oh my God (Esp.)  
>  señor - mister (Esp.)   
> gracias - thank you (Esp.)   
> Dios - God (Esp.)


	7. seven

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List  
_ ** **seven**

**_l'esprit de l'escalier  
_** — **(Fr.) That feeling you get when you leave  
a conversation and think of all  
the things you should have said.**

Every second week of the first semester in each academic year of Evergreen Hollows' University was known as Organisation Week, oft abbreviated as Org Week. Each course had their own mandatory organisation, though there were a myriad of other extracurricular organisations as well. These organisations would hold general assemblies, meetings, and workshops in order to improve oneself at his or her respective course.

One of these was the Evergreen Hollows Performing Arts Society, or PAS for short.

The PAS often holds many workshops and orientations to accommodate the creative needs of their organisation members, and, during semestral breaks, bring the students to strategic parts of the world (New York, USA; Los Angeles, USA; London, UK; Paris, France; etc.) in order to help them find their niche in the inner workings of performing arts through exposure to different dramatic art forms and through experience itself.

…At least, that's what the brochure said. A-And, at least, t-that's what Lovino would have g-gotten had he not been so distracted b-by the redhead sitting in front of him…

_Fuck! Why is my h-hand shaking, dammit?!_

"Are yeh alright? Yer face is all red an' yer hand is shakin'. D'yeh want ta go ta th' clinic? If yeh want, Ah can take yeh there," Allistor queries, looking at the brunette before him with concern.

" _No_ , I'm _fine_!" The Italian exclaims, hyperaware of his flushed cheeks getting even redder. _Fuck. Why me?!_

_Why_ now _?!_

"Positive?" the redhead asks, standing up from his seat across Lovino and pressing the back of his hand against Lovino's forehead. It feels cool against his flushed skin. The latter found himself leaning into the former's touch. "Yeh can barely fill out th' sign-up sheet." Allistor draws his hand back and Lovino catches himself before he leans in too much. _How pathetic._

"Why don't yeh sit 'ere an' Ah'll get yeh somefink ta drink. Yeh good wi' tha'?" Allistor asks, pushing Lovino in the general direction of the seat the redhead had previously occupied. The girl sitting beside him gave the Italian a sympathetic glance.

It's only when Allistor heads to the cafeteria beside the atrium when she speaks up. "Sorry about that. Allistor's got these maternal tendencies. He babies everyone. Better get used to it. Sit down, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah…" Lovino murmurs, wondering what the fuck just happened.

"I'm Magda. Magdalene, but call me Magda." The girl says, grinning at him. She has curly hair dyed mint green and baby blue, caramel skin, and a few piercings here and there. They shake hands.

Lovino finally collects himself in time and gives her an alluring smile. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. My name's Lovino."

"What's your course, Lovino?"

"Creative Writing. You?"

"Media production." She smiles, tilting her head back. "Sit down now, I'm not gonna bite,"

"R-Right…" He takes a seat beside her. They sit in an awkward silence for a while.

Not even thirty seconds later, Allistor is back with a paper cup of water in hand. He hands it to Lovino— "You didn't h-have to get me this, d-dammit…"— who takes it with trembling hands and gingerly takes a small sip.

"God. You are _such_ a mum, Allistor." Magdalene comments.

He pouts at her. "Nuffink bad wi' tha', methinks. An' i' comes wif takin' care of three li'l brothers,"

She laughs, "Colin is older than you by three years."

Allistor grins at her. "S'not m' fault 'e acts like e's bloody fifteen." He glances at the Italian. "Hey, yeh feelin' better yet?" His forest green eyes widen in realisation. "Oh! Yeah, Ah haven't caught yer name yet. Ah'm Allistor, by th' way."

Lovino sets the cup down, hiding his face behind his hand in a way that it'd seem like he was wiping his mouth. "My name's Lovino."

_Fuck,_ he thinks to himself. And that's all he can basically think of right now, because his mind is so fucking _blank_ at the moment. All he can focus on is _Allistor_ , right in front of him, talking to him, fetching _water_ for him— like, who the fuck does that for a stranger, d-dammit?!— and Allistor himself.

Any train of coherent thought flew right off the fucking track the moment he glanced up and found his eyes locked with the redhead's own. His breath caught in his throat. _Dio_ , he was so fucking _beautiful_ , he looked like a work of art he could stare at and admire 'til the end of time.

Lovino's hand twitched. He wanted to write, and fast—before his words left him, though he knew his words could never capture such a pulchritudinous, transcendental moment. He hated that he could never do perfection personified any literary justice.

He was drawn to Allistor akin a moth to a flame.

Oh, _yes_ , how he wanted that fire to consume his being oh-so very badly until there was nothing left.

_Unleash the crappy poetry—_

A cool hand met his forehead again. _Allistor's_ hand.

And again, his mind went blank.

_Just_ like that.

"Ah don't fink yeh've got a fever or anyfink… Why is yer face so _red_?"

Lovino jerked his head away and immediately regretted doing so.

"Did Ah hurt yeh? Ah'm sorry—"

"Don't apologise." Lovino cut in, abruptly standing up and ignoring the guilt that spiked his conscience. He licks his lips, trying the find the right words to say so he could make his escape.

"I just—" Hazel eyes glance down at the sign-up sheet. He grabs the pen given and scrawls his basic information on it in haste. "I need to go. I forgot I had something to do."

He rushes off, faintly hearing Allistor call out, "Ah'll see yeh around then!"

The blush on the Italian's face deepens as he heads to the general direction of the campus gates.

"You scared him off," Magda nonchalantly says, filing her black stiletto fingernails to perfection whilst Allistor observed Lovino's quickly retreating figure, feeling a smidgen perplexed.

He looks at her in exasperation. "Rubbish. Ah did _not_."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Allistor. You proper _smothered_ the blazes out of the poor bloke, and now you've scared him off! _Bad Allistor!_ "

"Oi! For th' record, Ah did _not_ smother 'im!"

She sits up a bit more on the plastic chair, mockingly giving the redhead a betrayed look. "Cor! Some friend _you_ are. _I_ tell you to buy me a bag of crisps, and _you_ say you're too tired to! Bollocks! Proper bollocks!"

His eyes widen incredulously. "Tha' was _one time_ , Mags! Williams 'ad me goin' back an' forth, tryin' ta finish tha' damned thesis— Ah was runnin' on a _deadline_ for God's sake!"

"Lies! Fallacies!" Magda cried out, clutching her fisted palm to her chest. "Oh, how they _wound_ me so!"

"Such _passion_. Yeh should've taken up acting," Allistor comments, taking his seat beside her.

She waved him off, "Theatrics aside, methinks you've got a thing for him,"

He sat up straight. "A-Are yeh… are yeh saying tha' Ah fancy 'im? Because Ah don't—"

"Oh, don't give me that bull— He comes in and suddenly, you're all up in his face, concerned and oh-so very worried for his well-being! Look at you, running about the campus like some deranged madman, _just_ to get him a cup of water he didn't even _ask_ for! It's a bloody miracle! For the first time in _all_ the years that I've known you, _you_ finally show interest in someone~!" She declares, flourishing her hands before her. "Blokes over birds it is, then."

"W- _What_ —" he sputters out, his face reddening. "Yeh're _absolutely crackers_ , Mags! Now, _shush_ —"

"Oh, please, dearie— sexual discrimination is _so_ 1800s. It's absolutely horrid and medieval now. Don't be embarrassed~ It's about time the world accepts the fact that some people are just not bound to the gender of their biological sex. Though, I'll admit that I've never twigged you the type to fancy men."

"Me neither," the redhead solemnly mumbles under his breath, rubbing his palms together in deep thought.

* * *

 

After hightailing it out of the campus, Lovino found himself locked in his bedroom. His prison. His solace.

He was immersed in his thoughts, drowning in them. Drowning in enchanting green eyes that always seemed to capture him.

He looked into those eyes and everything else just… f-faded away. In that ephemeral, encompassing moment, his thoughts devoured him whole and he found himself wishing to do things that have never crossed his mind before.

He was bordering on dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that are only dangerous for people like him.

He wanted Allistor.

He wanted Allistor to want him.

Dangerous thoughts indeed.

He felt enthralled at the redhead's careful, cautious touch. The way after Allistor drew his hand away, his touch still lingered on the Italian's flushed skin. It drove his senses crazy. He wanted more. He _craved_ for more.

But at the same time, it made him sad. These thoughts were dangerous because they made him wish for things he could never have.

He could never be good enough for someone like Allistor.

Allistor could never love someone like him.

Lovino was too callous. He was too short-tempered. He thought too much and spoke too little. Even then, he had a foul mouth that put most sailors his senior to shame.

Dangerous thoughts.

Thoughts of things he had no control over.

Thoughts that made him want to cease existing altogether _just_ to spare whatever was left of his heart from the inevitable hurt.

A-And the way he just _left_ like that. He screwed everything up. Why couldn't he at _least_ say something more coherent and made room for conversation? Why did he always have to ruin everything? Why did he always have to cut these things short?

Overwhelmed with guilt, Lovino tossed and turned in bed, thinking of all the words he should have said. Only in his thoughts did he imagine himself to be nice. To be witty. Funny. Charming. All the things he never ever could be.

Dangerous thoughts _everywhere_.

Allistor plagued his mind. Everything about him. The way he walked, talked, looked, and even _breathed_. **Everything.**

Memorise everything, _down_ to the very last detail.

Like the freckles on his cheeks, the porcelain texture of his skin.

The way his vibrant scarlet hair had this lock that always fell over his face.

Coffee.

He smelled like coffee and cigarettes.

He smoked.

Perfection personified had vices too.

_But that's the point, isn't it?_ Lovino's thoughts supplied. _To find someone whose demons play well with ours?_

He contemplated that for a second. _Is it? Or isn't it?_

Lovino felt conflicted. There was a knock on his bedroom door. It successfully brings him out of his thoughts, though it lasts only a moment.

"Ve~ _Fratello_?" Feliciano is home.

Staccato breathing.

Lovino's heart is nearly beating out of his chest, and he's found himself drenched in cold sweat. He sits up on the bed.

How long had he been there like that?

_C-Calm the fuck down, d-dammit…_ he tells himself.

"I'm here, just give me a minute," he tells Feliciano.

"Lovi, are you okay?" Feli asks, concern lacing his tone. "You sound out of breath."

Lovino's response is quick, clipped, and automatic. "I'm fine. Just leave me alone."

* * *

 

_Finally_ , Lovino had an incentive to go to their town's shitty mall. Feliciano needed to get more art supplies and Lovino needed to get a journal. The older Vargas brother had read through his syllabus for Intro to Creative Writing during lunch and found that he needed one to… _divulge_ his thoughts in.

The Italian wasn't exactly sure how he'd go about avoiding the task, but he was sure it'd settle itself somehow.

So that evening, after both of their classes, Lovino and Feliciano got into the black Range Rover _Nonno_ had gotten Lovino as an 18th birthday present and went to the mall. _Nonno_ had gotten Feli a white Mercedes-Benz as well, but it was back in their former home.

Lovino's Range Rover had proven to be more useful during the move to their new apartment. P-Plus, the Mercedes wouldn't have gotten much use from its owner, anyway…

Especially since Lovino was the only one who could legally drive. Like, he actually _had_ a driver's licence.

Sure, they both applied for a driver's permit, but Feliciano hadn't passed his exam because he couldn't suppress his inner Italian Speed Demon as well as his older brother did. He sped down the road like some jacked up high schooler recreating his own version of Need For Speed.

It took Lovino all of his willpower to _not_ take that as a challenge and race after his _fratello_. He fucking _needed_ this licence and no wannabe Formula One racer was going to take that from him, _idiota fratellino_ or not.

Feliciano had yet to retake his test. Which didn't matter anyway, since there was only one car and Lovino sure as hell wasn't letting Feli take the wheel, _especially_ after the latter had made the oh-so very _stunning_ display of making donuts on the asphalt as he was fucking _drifting_ to a halt. He could practically hear _Highway to Hell_ playing in the distance.

Lovino also heard that the driving instructor Feli was with quit soon thereafter.

Hopefully, she must have found a better job by now, _si_?

_Any_ ways, the mall… was ugly as fuck. _Dio_ , he _hated_ it. The walls were painted in the bland shades of taupe and ochre, and the place was filled with fake foliage in order to make the mall more 'aesthetically-pleasing'. Eurgh. Either way, he was here with a purpose. Get a journal, wait for Feliciano to finish up his art supplies run, and haul ass back home.

It was his turn to make dinner tonight, and he didn't want the salmon he had set aside for defrosting out for too long.

The **only** redeeming factor about this mall was its art supplies shop. _Artist's Corner_ was a store that was half as huge as the supermarket in the ground floor. It specially catered to artists of all art forms and mediums. It even had scrapbooking materials of all kinds. Upon entering, the shop already overwhelms one's senses with the scent of paints and wooden frames.

Feliciano found the smell to be addicting, to be honest. N-Not that he was getting high off of the paint fumes, or anything! These were canvas paints, after all! Not house paint~! That would be _ridiculous!_

He grabbed a cart and immediately bounded towards the nook with different canvasses. Feliciano had been here so many times, if they didn't have the apartment, he would've considered this to be his second home.

Within minutes, Feliciano had filled the cart with all he'd need for the meantime~

Lovino eventually showed up from walking around with a Moleskine journal in hand. He placed it on the conveyor belt at the check out counter and paid for everything.

Then they went home.

* * *

 

"Say," Antonio starts, looking up from his laptop. "Why is Lovino so angry all the time?" He glances at his two flatmates in curiosity.

Gilbert rolls his carmine eyes, his attention primarily focussed on the PSP in his pale hands as he lounged on the plush black leather couch. "The hell if I'd know, _mein Freund_. That kid's always had a yardstick shoved up his ass." He smashed a few more buttons before adding, "I don't think I've ever seen him genuinely smile. His brother's _way_ better. Cuter, too."

Francis sets his manuscript down on the dining table, making his way to the kitchenette to retrieve a bottle of red wine, silently observing the exchange taking place before him.

"He writes a lot, _si_?" Toni asks, typing a few keys on his keyboard before reaching for his notebook in his backpack on the floor beside the recliner. Gilbert shrugs his shoulders.

"Yes, he's taking up creative writing," Francis speaks up, reaching for a wine glass in one of the cupboards. He uncorks the bottle of wine and pours some into the glass.

"What does he write about?" Antoine queries.

The blond takes a small sip of his drink before setting the bottle down atop one of the marble counters. "I can't say for sure about what, _mon ami_ ," he answers honestly.

"He probably just writes about how he hates everyone on the face of the planet," Gilbert mused. " _Gott_ , he's such a whiny bitch."

Cerulean blue eyes glance up at the Spaniard. "Why are you so curious about him, anyway, Antoine?"

Antonio catches Francis' eye. He shrugs his shoulders in indifference, "I don't know. I just am, I guess. He's angry twenty-four-seven, so there _has_ to be a reason or something behind it, right?"

The Frenchman gives him an enigmatic smile. "…But of course."

* * *

 

"Ve~ Lovi?" Feliciano's voice pipes up from the living room.

"Hmm?" Lovino hums in response, finishing up with prepping the salmon on the chopping board before him.

"What do you think of Luddy?"

Lovino's mind blanked out for a second. "What?"

"Y'know… Ludwig? The blond guy. The one you met That Day In The Diner. I call him Luddy."

"…Who the fuck is he?" Lovino asks, setting one serving onto the pan to be seared. He turns the heat up.

"He's a friend of mine and Kiku's! He's super smart and he's taking engineering at Evergreen Hollows, too~"

"So? You think I give a shit?"

"I just—" Feliciano came into view, leaning over the island counter. He glances down at his clasped hands and sighs. "No. You probably don't." He slowly nods to himself, smiling sombrely. "He's nice, you know?"

The older Vargas brother alternating between making the pesto and the pan-seared salmon glanced up at Feliciano, hazel eyes narrowed slightly. "Your point is..?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to… start a conversation~!" A tense silence falls over them before the younger twin is the first to break it. "You've been kind of distant lately," Feliciano blurted out. "And quiet. Really quiet. And I've been worried. Really worried."

Another pregnant silence engulfs the room, save for the occasional sound of the salmon sizzling on the pan, or Lovino stirring the pesto around on the shallow pot.

Just as the latter was going to speak, Feli had cut him off. "You know… If there's _any_ thing going on, you know you can talk to me, right—"

"Yeah, but I'm fine." Lovino finally interjects, searing the other side of the salmon. He turns the heat for the pesto off. "Nothing's… 'going on', so don't— don't worry about me."

"You worry about _me_ though,"

"Yeah, why shouldn't I? You're my little brother—"

" _Si_ , but by _twenty minutes_! An age difference of _twenty minutes_ doesn't mean I can't be concerned about you, too!"

Lovino set the pesto spoon down a bit too harshly. He whipped around to face his _fratellino_ , arms crossed over his chest as he glared at his brother in irritation. "What _is_ there to be concerned about? Look at me," he flourished his arms before himself, "I'm _fine_. F-I-N-E, _fine_. God, Feliciano, why do you have to make such a big deal out of nothing?"

Albeit his façade of supposed indifference, the older Vargas brother's heart was beating rapidly against his chest. Guilt seized his being. What if… What if Feliciano _knew_?

About the noose under his bed, about the bucket list.

About how he was one step closer to his own undoing with every item on that list that he was to cross out.

About the thoughts that have been running rampant in his head lately.

Dangerous thoughts.

_Dio_ , what if they shared some unspoken Telepathic Twin Connection or something only Feliciano picked up on? He could barely hide anything from his twin as it is. Ironically, unbeknownst to him, all the colour had been drained from his face on display for his _fratello_ to see.

Lovino turned around and resumed cooking. "This conversation is over."

Feliciano wanted to continue pressing Lovi for answers, he really did, but seeing his brother suddenly grow _pallid_ like that had **(terrified him)** been a clear warning to not pursue the topic further.

At least… not right now. Not yet.

**(Not until Feliciano was _sure_ he himself could take it.)**

* * *

 

The next morning, Antonio found himself in front of the Vargas brothers' apartment block again.

This time, he had brought chocolates instead of flowers.

He, of course, gave them to Feliciano.

Lovino made no move to stop him.

Antonio wondered why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> fratello - brother (It.)  
>  nonno - grandfather (It.)  
>  idiota - idiot (It.)  
>  fratellino - younger brother (It.)  
>  si - yes (It./Esp.)   
> Dio - God (It.)   
> mein Freund - my friend (Dt.)  
>  mon ami - my friend (Fr.)   
> Gott - God (Dt.)

**Author's Note:**

>  **Translations:**  
>  Dio mio - Oh, my God (It.)  
> fratello - brother (It.)  
> fratellino - younger brother (It.)  
> nonno - grandfather (It.)  
> amore - love (It.)  
> Dio - God (It.)
> 
>  
> 
> **~jellydonut16~**


End file.
